


Don't Get Me Wrong

by givupdafunk



Category: Jancy - Fandom, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Dinner on the road, F/M, Fluff, Jonathan's trust issues, Nancy's fooling no one but herself, Pac Man championship, Smuff, Smut, The road trip to Murray's, What happened when the door slammed, obscene amounts of blushing, only the last chapter is explicit, sexy liars, these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givupdafunk/pseuds/givupdafunk
Summary: STS2 Jancy on the roadChapter 1 - The 'F' WordChapter 2 - BlinkChapter 3 - Ice Cream in The Upside DownChapter 4 - ConsternationChapter 5 - Project VodkaChapter 6 - Madness





	1. The 'F' Word

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so first off, yes, I know that The Pretenders song with the same name as this fic wasn't released until after this would've happened (1986) so I'm not suggesting it's the inspiration or that Jancy would've heard it, or even liked it. But. If you happen to hear that song in the background while you read this, as I did at times while writing it, then just let it happen and call it a mood, an aesthetic.
> 
> This is my missing scenes fic that (hopefully) shows the building tension on Jonathan and Nancy's road trip and leading up to That Night at Murray’s, since inadequate writing didn't give us that. Perhaps this is worse writing, but at least it satisfies some of my burning questions: what did these two old friends do, talk about, think about in the hours and hours of their story that are not in season 2? How did Nancy end up kissing Jonathan on Christmas, but then sitting down with Steve for the next year? What did Murray and so many others see that they refused to see? What finally broke them down, and most importantly, what happened when the door closed? (Yes, the last chapter is smut, duh, it's me.)
> 
> Since I'm really only focusing on the missing scenes I'll be gliding past the actual scenes. This assumes that the reader is familiar enough with the STS1 & S2 Jancy storyline so I don't need to retell those canon scenes in full (that seems boring).
> 
> Enjoy. A bit over five months to go until S3.

****************************

Don't Get Me Wrong

  
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Ch. 1 - The 'F' Word

  
****************************

It's a Friday afternoon just past Halloween when Jonathan allows himself to hope again. He and Nancy are stopped at a sleepy gas station many miles outside of Hawkins; the sun is growing close to dipping behind the trees. She's once again surprised him; first, with her performance earlier at the The Lab, and then with her unprompted confession to him earlier.

"How much gas do we need?" she's hopped out of the car and is talking to him while he drops the license plate to open the gas tank. "I'm going in, I'll tell them and pay."

"Oh, ok. Tell them eight dollars on three, please.”

“Got it.”

He slides the metal gas nozzle into the tank as he watches her walk toward the small gas station market. It’s not the first time he’s noticed how... appealing she is. _'What a beautiful... shape'_ is the restrained thought that slips from the dirtier parts of his mind.

She turns back over her shoulder, stopping suddenly, catching him averting his guilty eyes. "Want anything?"

 _'Just you. You.'_ It's an unchecked emotion bursting from his heart. He can't say it. He won't.

"Um, some water?" His eyes look back up at her, striking her with an honesty she wasn’t expecting, a tenderness in his voice. His eyes seem to glow at her in a way that stuns her.

"You got it," it's an awkward chirp, meant to sound cool, but it comes out too high pitched. Nancy turns her face away before he can see her cracking smile and blush as she continues into the store.

She's internally warmed by the sight of him, foot on the bumper, pumping gas, gold highlighted in his hair by the afternoon sun. And those Jonathan Byers eyes; he really has no idea he's sexy. It's her best kept secret, or was.

Growing up in Hawkins together, he’d been small, much smaller than the others, like Will, only angry. He was targeted and abused, humiliated, by Steve and Tommy mostly. But puberty finally leveled that playing field a few years ago. She’d noticed, barely recognizing him after summer break. His shoulders were broad and his hands and wrists were thicker and looked strong. Yet he still had that haunted, angry look: Stay away. You don’t want to know me. I can’t trust any of you.

He’d been polite to her though, having been placed in a lot of the advanced classes together. She’d always had a soft spot for him, understanding from her mom and Mike how different and much tougher The Byers family had it, constantly struggling. His mom would always smile when she’d ring her out at Melvald’s, yet wearing the same haunted, stressed, angry eyes as Jonathan.

Last fall he let her in, seemingly for life or death purposes only, leading them awkwardly into over-intimate, bare, raw moments that sparked romantic interests, before both retreated back to a friendly acquaintance role. However, over the past couple of days, he hadn't hesitated to be there for her again in new and surprising ways. Having him around was just as she remembered. Exciting, yet comforting.

She’s grown accustomed to his intensity, the way he still often looks like a rabbit afraid he’s about to be cornered, so jumpy, distrustful. Sometimes she still wonders, briefly of course, what he would be like as a lover, if he would hold back, timid, or if she’d feel that intensity to her core. She supposes it’s the latter... but she shouldn’t be thinking of this at all. He'll never be hers, of course, but she’d still like to see him happy with someone. He could make someone happy, for sure. Definitely 'Dateable' as Allie would say.

Just like Dr. Owens earlier, these fellow gas station people must assume they are a couple. It's a warm feeling, that shows on his face, and an assumption he's only too happy they make. A few might think she's too good for him. He may agree, but she's also, not his. He wishes. It's a mistake to think that could happen. He doesn't have the words to express how amazing she is, and even if he did he couldn't get the words out, because she regularly takes his breath away.

And now he's allowed himself to want her again, to hunger for her. Mistake. The flush of hope in his cheeks is harder to stuff down than usual. But he does. It's not safe to think about. He's used to dreaming about things that will never happen. He's used to her walking away from him when he doesn't want to see her go.

The more they discover about one another, the more they struggle and overcome together, the stronger this unchartered intimacy between them fights to be realized. Every time, they play it safe and call it 'friendship'. They've even sat across from one another and lied about not feeling 'that way' about each other. Painful. And a Lie. But still a commitment. To safety.

But on this current, dangerous mission, they'd committed deeper to one another, possibly deeper even than last fall when a literal monster was chasing the smell of their blood.

It had all started a few days ago over a short phone call to Barb's mother. Before Nancy admitted she'd lied.

  
******************************

  
“... an-and don’t call me back here, it’s dangerous." The slight stutter in Nancy's voice is alarming.  
  
_"Nancy, what is this...?"_

"I just need you to trust me. Please.”

Nancy firmly hangs up the phone, as if to contain the danger within it's blue plastic shell. Her eyes dart up, looking at Jonathan sitting with her on the edge of her bed. She's just called Barb's mother, executing step one of the aggressive plan she hatched today over lunch on the hood of his car. The Plan is now set in irretrievable motion.

“Ok, that should do it. Good job.” He gently touches her hand as he moves the phone to the bedside table and slides closer, their knees connect. He has to fight the urge to reach over and comfort her, grab her hand, hold her... she looks so worried, and she's looking to him for reassurance.

But he can't grab her and hold her. That would be weird. She might feel the emotions he conceals every day and take it the wrong way. So instead he pats her on the shoulder and she nods. A quick smile, through intense eyes doesn’t bring relief.

It sinks in.

“What the _fuck_ did I just do?” Her eyes and mouth pop open, wide and vulnerable, unsure if she should laugh or panic.

“We, what the fuck did _We_ just do.” He strokes her shoulder and locks eyes with her, his breathing a little shallow.

Scared or not, they're committed to doing this, together, naturally, just like the day they got matching scars in their palms. They've cast a different type of bait to lure a different type of monster. Now that there is no turning back, she’s having a little bit of a reality check. Had she been too hasty?

“I cannot believe I got you into this. You don’t have to do this, Jonathan. It’s only me they’ll be looking for. No one knows you’re involved. There’s still time for you to back out, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.” Her speech is accelerating, her breaths shallow, eyes widening and darting in fearful ways he's seen before.

“Hey, look at me, please,” he says, his hands now on both of her shoulders. He's wondering when would be the right time to remind her he is scared, too; it might not be right now, but he can at least reassure her in one way. “I want to do this. You didn’t get me into anything. I’m here by choice, for my own reasons, for my family. I'm not backing out.”

She’s caught in his eyes again. And he’s caught in hers. They seem to flicker and glow with meaning. The silence grows, and his hands are so large and gentle on her shoulders. Without words, they are pulled into an easy hug, one that they both tell themselves is just the friendly, comforting of two comrades heading into war. Only his chin is now on her shoulder and his hands are stroking her back much like he did that night he pulled her from the portal in the tree. He’d been so kind that night. She sighs remembering. She'd been so pissed at him only hours before... for... some stuff he said, but that all changed when they found a deer dying in the woods.

It feels nice to hug. Her hands slide around his waist and up his back to rest on his shoulder blades, as she relaxes into the memory of Jonathan's touch. He hides the fact that he gets goosebumps when her head turns out and her cheek rests on his shoulder. She feels warm electricity but dismisses it as static from his sweater. She feels an instinct to crawl into his lap and let him hold her, but she blinks that away and admonishes herself for not being stronger. She wants to be a good, strong leader, not a baby curled up in a ball.

It's been so long since they've hung out like this. She likes it - spending time with Jonathan. He's rough and sometimes awkward but also so sweet and genuine and strong and smart and witty and he _means_ something to her. No one else has been through what they have, done what they did. They will always be in a special light in one another's eyes.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” she says at a near whisper. She didn't really mean for that to come out. As soon as she says it she wonders if it sounds wrong, like he might take that wrong. She immediately begins to concoct a reason why it's not what he thinks, just in case. She doesn't need to; he never takes her slip ups the wrong way.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” He fights the urge to stroke her hair. Why is he suddenly struck with fear at the thought of losing her, like he almost did in the woods that night?

Because they are dancing with danger again, reopening doors to things pushed away and denied, by signed documents and fear of the unknown.

He starts to feel the warm attraction he feels with Nancy sometimes, so he pulls away slowly so they are face to face again, hands still gently on her shoulders. He's practiced this retreat disguised as respectful friendship many times over the past year. Will isn't the only one good at hiding.

“We will have a good plan. We are going to think of everything, so no one gets hurt.” He lowers his eyes and then looks at her meaningfully, under a serious brow. “Ok?”

She still needs to know. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Her hands are still around him, resting on his hips, absorbing the feel of his warm body, his hands on her shoulders, her beautiful blue eyes looking at him again with too many emotions, less than a foot away. He forces himself to not look at her lips. He’s also trained himself over the past year to not get distracted by Nancy. She's so fucking beautiful, but he knows she only sees him as a friend. He's good at being her friend.

“Hey, I told you when I signed those papers a year ago, it was only because I had to - I'm not even sure it's legal since I'm not 18 - but either way, I was always ready to ignore those papers and do something about it if I could. You helped me remember that. No, I don't really believe everyone's dead and we are all safe. We have to get this evidence out there. We have to catch them. I’m doing this for Will, my mom, for me, for Justice in general, so no one else like Eleven can get hurt by that place, and for Barb and Benny and all the others that didn't have to die, and, yes, for you... because you’re my friend, and I know you need to do this, and I know _why,_ and I _don’t_ want you to go alone.”

And there was that ‘F’ word. He used that a lot for Nancy because he knew that she wanted to be with Steve, not him. It had been said without being said. He made sure she knew he wasn’t overstepping and he knew that she would only see him as a friend.

She is his friend, after all. He's casually shared things with her over the past year that only a few people know, and she was kind, and didn't run away, and they really are friends. He likes her. IT. He likes _IT._ He likes being friends with her.

Even if they can't go back in time and be more than friends, he still always sees the same fierce, ponytailed girl that met him in the woods with a baseball bat ready for target practice. She's a trusted ally that changed his life forever in a good way.

When she walked into his English class at the beginning of this semester she was happy to see him and came and grabbed the empty desk next to him. Now at least they have that one class together and the walk down the hall after. It's his favorite part of the day. He doesn't want to mess that up.

They also have an American History class together but they have to sit alphabetically so she sits in the back of the class where he can't even see her. They still usually walk out together, or at least wave hello before heading to their next classes in different directions.

They've also studied together for tests a time or two, usually with Steve hovering and jokingly calling them nerds. Steve is tolerable to him now, he's more tolerable in general which is nice, but they'll never have much in common other than the events of last fall and Nancy.

Even though she and Steve fought last night at the Halloween party, and she used the word ‘dumped’ earlier today, he didn’t assume that their relationship status had changed. Steve and Nancy often didn’t see eye to eye. It was a constant power struggle with those two that always lead to making out. They made out a lot in public. Right in front of him. Jonathan didn't have any delusions about her feelings. None. They are friends, and Steve is her boyfriend.

When Nancy heard the ‘F’ word she nodded appreciatively and said “Thank you. You are a good friend. Barb would thank you, too.”

Again she wants to crawl into his lap, for the tenth time this afternoon, possibly to cry. It must just be because she’s scared. Scared because what they are planning is a little dangerous. And perhaps they haven't thought this through fully, but she needs his friendship, now more than ever.

Jonathan is her friend. He’s never tried to be anything else. She feels responsible for him, but she's very glad he's coming with her. He's really the perfect person to understand, plus he's proven before that she can rely on him when things are bad.

“Ok, let’s go over the plan...” she says. They have to stay focused. Maybe they've been too hasty again - the last time they were this impetuous they were both almost killed by a demogorgon - but it's too late to worry about any of that now.

She straightens up, abruptly breaking physical contact and reaches for the note pad on her nightstand. She's suddenly cold and misses his hands on her shoulder, but no time for any of that. They must stay focused. Too much depends on this plan working to worry about Steve or Jonathan right now. Focus, Nancy, Focus.

Tomorrow they'll wait in the park and probably get taken into custody by goons from Hawkins Lab that, no doubt, overheard her phone call to Barb's mother just now. They won't be able to communicate verbally once they are there so they have to be clear on the plan and have non-verbal signals, too.

They may even separate them. They'll have to have an agreed plan for that as well.

And one for if they get into really deep shit. A plan they hope not to use, but need.

She'll record from a tape player in her purse, and hopefully capture some audio they can use. Then they'll make their way to the Investigator's house in Illinois that is looking for Barb. Nancy had taken the business card from Barb's parent's house. If he doesn't help them, they will figure it out from there. Someone will be interested in the truth, right?

It's all a long shot, but the best they have. It's better than doing nothing, she thinks. She can't do that anymore. She can't.

He'll provide the car and she’ll provide the credit card. Her mom makes her have it “for emergencies” but when that emergency has been a cute new top or shoes her mom has been ok with it. When it’s all over she’ll explain this _was_ an emergency, including her recent radio shack purchase of a new purse-sized tape recorder.

They plan for every scenario they can think of until well after dark when he needs to get home. He'll pack and sleep and be back to pick her up in the morning.

Neither one sleeps well.

In her tidy, pastel bedroom, Nancy glances around at all of the reminders of Barb that have haunted her the last year, at the things from a life before Barb went missing, the things that no longer bring her joy. Before turning off the light, she wonders if this will be the last night she's in pain and her life feels incomplete and meaningless.

She hugs herself up into a ball and finally allows herself to cry.

************

The note Jonathan leaves his mother in the morning says that he’s going off for the weekend after school and he’ll check in when he can. Adding “with Nancy” might raise more questions and risk exposing her alibi that she’s spending the night at Stacey’s, so he keeps it brief and just shy of a lie.

Joyce will assume he’s off camping and taking pictures somewhere for the weekend, like he's done before. His mom knows he’s an artistic wanderer, and responsible, so she won’t worry this way. She saves all of her worries for Will anyway. If things go well, Jonathan and Nancy's actions this weekend will help her, and Will. He'd do anything for them.

He wishes he'd been able to see them before he left, but he found them both asleep in Will's bed when he got home last night and he didn't want to wake them. He felt helpless that Will sometimes still has terrible nightmares and struggles to fall asleep alone.

Jonathan slept little and woke well before dawn, his resolve to help his family stronger than ever.

For a split second he wonders if this could be the last note he leaves for his family. What if they are captured and he doesn’t return? How will his mom and brother know what happened to him? Will they understand what he and Nancy were trying to do? Will they understand how important they thought this was? Will they know that they were a little afraid, but not enough to not try?

Will they know how much planning they put into it last night, and that when he headed out to leave from her house, she walked him all of the way out of the house, to the curb where his car was parked. That she hugged him good night. And when she did, instead of placing her chin over his shoulder, she turned her face inward, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her nose grazing his neck, accidentally, he assumes. She sighed and squeezed him, in a way that made him close his eyes, and tip his cheek to rest on her soft hair.

It would feel so natural for him to kiss the top of her head, to fold his arms around her completely, to tell her that he's scared, too, but it's important that they do this, and he's going to be there to protect her, to help her, because she's important to him, because he cares for her... but he doesn't tell her that, because she might take it wrong. Instead, they parted with a friendly smile and wishes to ‘sleep well’. (He would've stayed if she asked.)

If they never returned, how would anyone know that he still wondered if she would ever remember how she said his name after he brought her home, drunk, from the Halloween party. Did she really not remember any of it, or did she just not mean it? He knows that people say stupid things when they are drunk. Drunk people lie. He knows that. But sometimes they also tell the truth; that's what is scarier - that she told both him and Steve her truth that night.

Thing is, he can't ask her because she says she doesn't remember him being there at all, which means she doesn't remember how she started crying when he found her in the bathroom, her white sweater stained with red spiked punch, rambling about Barb's parents and bullshit, pissed at herself for making Steve leave, but then pissed at Steve for leaving, for trying to tell her what to do, for ruining her costume, and being bullshit.

But she’d been happy to see Jonathan when he first found her, surprised and smiling, offering a delicate "hey" before collapsing into deep sobbing tears, his arms instinctively encircling her to him, like they'd been tonight; her tiny body shook turbulently against him, her delicate fingers gripping his jacket into tight fists of anger, frustration, and brutal sorrow; her eyes were flooded with tears and heartbreak. He was heartbroken for her. He could do nothing but hold her, so he did.

Mostly she was just very, very drunk and not making much sense. He knew he needed to get her home and safe. She was clearly in a lot of pain, so he let her talk and cry. It was hard to follow but he kept hearing Barb's name, which told him enough.

After she stopped crying and rambling into his shoulder she felt a little better and agreed to let him take her home. While he yanked some toilet paper from the roll to dry her tears, he reminded her he had to go there anyway to get Will so it was no problem.

If Steve was coming back he would've been here by now, he figured, so he lied and said that Steve asked him to make sure she got home safely. He needed to get her out of there.

It was impossible to leave undetected as he'd hoped. That new kid with the mullet sprayed beer at them and yelled something about "King Steve!" at Nancy who still had enough gumption to flip him off.

Tommy held the door for them, smirking and antagonizing Jonathan who was guiding a stumbling Nancy out to the car. "Don't let him take your picture, princess!" he yelled, before slamming the door on their gross, drunken laughter.

However, she had known who he was when he helped her into the car saying "... but you're not bullshit are you, Jonathan. Are you?" it was almost an accusation, an interrogation.

"Uh, I hope not, no. Okay, here let me put your seatbelt on..."

Their faces were close as he leaned across her. As he searched for the seatbelt strap she said more surprising words she wouldn't remember.

"Mmm..." such a mischievous giggle she'd had. "Mmm, Jonathan...you're cute, doyaknowthat?" The brief gentle squeeze on the back of his thigh, startled him, stalling his progress with the seatbelt. "Doya.. know...? Doyaknow? Whatchyouare?" The slurred delivery didn't make him blush any less. "Sexy..." she said it in the softest tone he'd ever heard from her, and so close he could feel her breath on his cheek. "And you smell nice... you always smell nice, Jonathan... hmmm, Jonathan..." Looking intently at him, she'd had a blissful, silly smile as her head lolled back against the seat. "...not me though I smell awful. I promise not ta barf in yer car..." every movement she made illustrated how little control she had at this point. 'Drunk people lie,' he reminds himself.

"Well, thanks... for that... leave your hand on your lap, please, I have to close the door..." The good thing is she wouldn't remember how his face was as red as her costume.

She wouldn't remember any of that. She doesn't remember the way she clung to him while he practically carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, talking softly to her to keep her quiet; doesn't remember that he removed her shoes and covered her up. She doesn't remember how she then reached for his arm again, eyes bright, and said his name in the kind of pitiful tone that made him stop breathing.

She certainly won't remember whatever it was she was just about to say before the light in her eyes dimmed and she abruptly sank into sleep. It haunted him on his way down to the basement to pick up Will, and still haunted him. He can still hear how soft and pleading his name sounded on her breath, and the clear, honest look in her eyes; clearer than any moment before, drunk or sober. What had actually happened that night?

He will have to live without knowing what she wanted to say.

There had been a similar time a year ago when she was bandaging his hand on his couch. They'd been interrupted. It was for the best then. Maybe this was for the best, too. What is certainly best is not to worry about that now. He needs to stay focused on executing The Plan. It's very important. So much is at stake. Focus, Jonathan, Focus.

However, he has one last thought he can't help. He remembers how she came out to his car the next day at lunch to ask for a ride home because, how did she put it? Because ‘Steve just dumped me’.

When he picks her up in the morning she of course immediately lets him know that he doesn't have to do this, giving him just one last chance to get out. But his mind is made up, and off they go.

"Hey Nance, did you bring toothpaste that I can borrow?"

"I brought toothpaste that you can use, you don’t need to borrow it and give it back... gross.”

“Ha. Ha. You know what I meant, but thanks, I will use it. We only have the one tube at home so I couldn't leave my mom and Will with nothing.”

“Good. Yes, happy to share my toothpaste. It’s for both of our benefit that you do.” Nancy meant it as a joke but she suddenly has a flash through her mind of Jonathan having fresh, minty breath as he nibbles on her neck.

He also just had a flash in his mind of him and Nancy standing at the sink brushing their teeth together. They'd spent the night together before, but not like this would be. They'll be together for the next few days at least. The moment feels too intimate somehow. Or at least they both are anticipating it will be some form of intimacy.

If they end up in a hotel room there isn't much privacy. They'll be in pajamas and sleeping close like before. They'll have to shower, knowing they are completely naked with just a thin door between them. She can't stop herself from wondering what he looks like naked, below the waist. Images flash in her mind that immediately embarrass her. 'Jesus, Nancy. What was that? Get a grip.' She shakes the warmth rising in her face away with a chuckle. He sees her.

“You ok?”

“Yep. Just was thinking... I mean...thought of something... else... um...” She's flustered but refocuses. “I know we tried recording through my other purse, but after you left, I found this one and it's smaller and lighter so I want to test it to make sure it will work. She readies the tape player and closes it up in her bag, holding it at her side normally. "Ok, so start talking, I'm recording."

“Ok you’re going to record over this, right?”

“Yes, just talk to me like it's normal. Come on. It’s for science.”

“Ugh, ok, I feel dumb, but ok.” He clears his throat. “So, hey, what’s going on?”

“Uh not much. What are you doing?” They both feel a little ridiculous, and shoot each other looks, but grin goofily and get into character.

“Oh, not much. Just driving to the park to get kidnapped by government agents with Nancy Wheeler. Do you know her? She’s the mastermind in a dangerous plot to expose a rogue government lab. She’s kind of cool and bad ass...”

“Ok, shut up.”

“But she’s not perfect, or anything, no, she kinda has terrible taste in music, and a lame crush on Tom Cruise...”

“Oh ok, huh, yeah I think she hangs out with that weird Jonathan Byers kid doesn’t she?”

“Yep, but don't believe what you've heard - that guy’s pretty cool...”

“Oh is he now?”

“No, actually he’s a friendless dork.” he says chuckling shyly.

“Inaccurate,” she sharply corrects him. “I know for a fact that he has friends, and those friends are lucky to have him as a friend...” she’s waxing too sentimental again. “But you're crazy, Nancy has great taste in men. Tom Cruise is beautiful.”

“Well she did land the hottest guy in school, Steve The Hair... is that his name?” He’s teasing her but is immediately unsure if he should’ve brought him up.

“Well, yah but that may be past tense.” It suddenly feels heavy, and she breaks character “He’s really mad at me, ya know.”

'Dammit, way to go...' is what he's thinking. “Oh, hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... bring that up. Sorry. It's gonna be ok, Nance. He’ll get over it, he’s probably bringing roses to your house today and when you get back you two will make up like you always do. It's gonna be fine.”

Steve’s always apologizing for doing something clueless to upset her. At least it seems clueless to Jonathan but what would he know about being in a relationship with someone. He’ll probably screw up as much as Steve someday too. He hopes he’ll be more original than roses in his apologies though. But maybe Nancy likes roses so that works for them. Who knows? Why does he care?! His look out the window says he's annoyed with himself.

“Maybe we fight too much. I don’t know...” she unzips her purse, her mind drifting elsewhere, and gently clicks the tape recorder to stop recording. “Ok, that should be enough to test. Thanks,” she rewinds and plays it back. The thought of getting back together doesn't lift her spirits at all.

As they listen to the recording and comment on how clear it records, the subtext hangs in the car. Neither one acknowledges the mutual admiration clearly hanging between the lines, only agree that the smaller purse will work fine.

She doesn’t record over their conversation right away. She likes listening to the way he says she’s "cool and bad ass". She thinks she’ll listen to it again later, just one last time, and then wipe it.

She also then convinces herself for the 700th time that year that even though she and Steve have their frictions, they are in love and it’s meant to be. Jonathan is right. They'll work everything out later, and get back together... but first take care of business. More important. Don't mix business with pleasure.

She's developed a nervous habit of rubbing at the scar in the palm of her left hand. As they get closer to their first stop, she starts to glide her thumb across the ridge of raised tissue running right to left. She tries to sneak a peak at his left hand, but he's holding the steering wheel. She hasn't seen his scar in almost a year.


	2. Blink

*********************************

Ch. 2 - Blink

  
*********************************

He's pulling into the parking lot of Forest Hills Park. It's almost 9am, and there is no more time to plan. They will say as little as possible from here on out, although they have worked out a few non-verbal signals. In less than a half hour, they will be sitting in his car, as the engine refuses to turn over. Strangers will surround them, while they realize they neglected to anticipate someone would tamper with the car.

They are caught, as they planned, just not how they expected. She'll turn to him, saying his name, again in a tone that will haunt him, because she's afraid, genuinely afraid, but he'll be the only one to know that.

They will refuse to talk to anyone except for the head of Hawkins National Laboratory, one Doctor Owens, who will leave them waiting in a locked room for hours and hours until Nancy grows impatient, yelling "Hey assholes! Let us out of here!" into the surveillance camera.

Dr. Owens is aware of Nancy's connection to The Hollands from the phone call the night before, but when he realizes that Jonathan is not just some tag along boyfriend, but the brother of his most intriguing patient, Will Byers, he goes easy on them, assuming they are experiencing their own versions of The Anniversary Effect, underestimating the innocent looking, but whip smart teens.

Their secret system of hand signals, blinks and taps will work perfectly to get them what they need. Nancy will tuck away her fear and become fierce and demanding, bluffing her way in as if they were forcing their way inside, instead of being taken there against their will; there will only be a few moments when she will look to him for reassurance. He will tuck away his fear and look at her with strength and pride in his eyes, she won't need the signals to understand him this time, and she'll keep pushing. And eventually they will get more than what they came for. They'll get a confession, and a view of the dangers lurking beneath The Lab.

When they are finally released and back on the road, the reality will set in - they did it. Well, they did _something_. And they made it out alive. So far. They hope it will be enough.

After they verify the tape captured everything they heard, they continue on to find the investigator that can help them, as Nancy put it so eloquently, "burn that lab to the ground".

The further they get from Hawkins and The Lab, the easier they start to breathe.

"Can you believe that actually worked?!! I can't believe they didn't look in my purse!" Her adrenaline rush is still going strong, her nervous energy, shifting between tension and excitement.

"Actually, I kind of can. You were great back there. I think they were afraid to search you." He's so relieved that didn't happen. His own adrenaline rush is quietly flushing his protective thoughts and emotions in a way he needs to deny. Fortunately, denying thoughts of Nancy has become a well rehearsed reaction. "Ok, tell me again which highway I take to get to this guy in Illinois. Do you remember?"

"It's not for at least a half an hour, not until Indianapolis. Listen, I have to tell you something. I don't know why." She shifts a bit in her seat to face him.

"Ok, what."

"I lied to you, and something about us just doing what we did just now makes me feel terrible about that. Especially since I know you lied too." Her guilty conscience was taking over and the words were flying out of her mouth beyond her control. She simply couldn't handle lies between them.

"I did? You are worrying me, should I pull over?"

"No, no..." she actually prefers that he's driving for this. "it's just that I know that Steve didn't ask you to take me home from the Halloween party." His jaw clenches. "And, I'm not mad, I'm not really sure why you told me that, but it's not important, I'm not mad, I swear, because the reason I know you lied is because... I remember more about that night than I pretended to, some more of it came back to me last night even. And I'm sorry I lied about that, or played dumb, or whatever you want to call it." The clench in his jaw shifts and then re-tightens, his eyes fixed hard on the road, as she continues.

"I mean there is still a lot that is very fuzzy or I don't remember. I think I just panicked because some of it was awful, and I wanted to pretend, for Steve, that I didn't remember anything at all. That I didn't remember the awful things I said to him. It was... easier to play dumb then to face what I'd done. I chickened out, for sure." His silence is unnerving.

"But that also meant that I had to pretend not to remember how great you were that night. I certainly didn't want to listen to Steve be all weirdly jealous, but I guess there was no way to stop that, he'll never change, but... just... I'm sorry for lying to you, and not saying 'thank you' properly sooner, because you really were great and I don't remember everything, but I am so embarrassed, because I know I was terrible and gross and a drunken handful..." he can feel her anguish. "Are you mad? I'm calling myself out here more than you. Don't be mad. Your lie was selfless, but mine was selfish and I'm so, so sorry."

Strange that she could be so brave back there at The Lab, yet so cowardly about one drunken, emotional night.

He pauses for a second, blinking hard and fast before responding. "No, I'm not mad at you." He's oddly not. Lies for him are usually deal breakers, but this one he kind of gets. "You weren't that bad, and at least you didn't barf in my car, as promised." He's joking to make her feel better, but also wondering how much she remembers; did she remember that part? He leaves his traitorous, hopeful eyes on the road.

"And I'm sorry for not telling you the truth about Steve." He does turn his head to look at her briefly as he starts to apologize. "I didn't want to seem like I was, I dunno, vilifying him. He definitely shouldn't have left you there. He was very upset when he left, though. That part was true. He saw me, so maybe he just assumed." He shakes his head, unsure. "I don't know. I'd only been there a short time before you spilled punch so I didn't know what else happened before."

"I'm still kind of shocked you came."

"Well, you went to all that trouble to get me that clever flyer. I just _had_ to get sheet faced." He's still joking but stops when she seems to really want to know. Plus both of them want to get past her awkward, confusing confession. "I wasn't planning to come. I went to drop off Will at your house for trick or treating and he made me feel bad about tagging along. He actually said something bitter about you not coming to watch over Mike. I mean he is old enough, maybe we do hover over him too much... anyway, so I let him go by himself and then I drove around for a while just convincing myself to go. I'm not sure why I went either. I just had time to kill I guess since I knew I couldn't go home. My mom thought I was with Will."

"Did you have fun? make any friends?"

"Noooo," a nervous, scoffing laugh escapes. "It reaffirmed for me that I am definitely not a party and crowds person, but it was ok. Some girl in a Siouxsie Sioux costume talked to me and I acted like a complete idiot. I'm hopeless."

"What girl? Who is that?"

"She's a singer, wears a lot of black and white stage makeup. I was such an anxious dork in all of that chaos that I actually asked if she was dressed as a member of KISS..."

"No, I mean who's the girl, not the costume."

"Oh. Samantha. Do you know her?"

"No, I don't think so..."

"I don't even think I'd recognize her again without all of that makeup. But she seemed pretty cool, but no, did not make friends, did not have a whole lot of fun, but I'm glad I was there to get you home safely." He glances over to smile at her with friendly eyes. "And I guess I kind of get you not wanting Steve to know you remember. Everyone saw us leave, so I knew someone would tell him. I know they aren't close anymore, but Tommy definitely saw us leave."

"Ugh, Tommy. Yeah, I kind of remember that." She's glad he's not mad, that she didn't break his trust. "I feel awful for lying, it was just so embarrassing. I don't... act like that, ya know? It was all a bad dream I wanted to forget. I've _never, ever_ been that drunk before. I... panicked. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry if I ruined your chance with that girl." It felt suddenly strange to talk about girls with Jonathan. They never did, only if she brought it up, because she wanted him to find someone nice. Up until now, he would never say much, although they would talk about her and Steve from time to time.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's, it's just whatever. As if there was anything to ruin. I ruined it myself without your help, but seriously, I'm glad that I was there to help you. Also glad that you weren't actually that black out drunk that you really didn't remember _anything_. That's kinda concerning."

A strange feeling of relief washes over her and she's not sure why. She's willing to be honest about that, but only to a point. There are still things that are hiding, and best left hidden. Things she only remembered last night, when she hugged him goodbye at his car. "Oh yeah, I mean there are some very blurry moments, but I wasn't completely blacked out the whole time."

There are lies and then there are secrets.

For example, there have been several times the past year when she's felt attracted to Jonathan. Felt flushed and shy, like a girl with a crush. Yes, she thinks he's cute, hot, sexy. She might be dating Steve but she's not blind. It's a secret. It's nobody's business, and she's determined to keep that secret.

Stacey even called her out on it once, claiming Nancy's always flirty and smiley to Jonathan, but she was able to convince her that she didn't think of him like that; they are just silly, but friends only, 'more like a brother' she had lied. She'd even suggested that Stacey date him to prove she didn't care and offered to set them up. She pretended to be disappointed when Stacey said she thought Jonathan would be too boring. Nancy knew better. Truth was Stacey would bore Jonathan.

It will also remain a secret that she remembers how red his face was when she'd drunkenly smiled at his warm neck, and told him he was cute. She told him a lot of things she would never have said to him sober. She was horrified with herself when she remembered that she'd grabbed his leg, and told him he was sexy. 'Christ, Nancy. What were you thinking?' she'd chided herself.

However, it was nice to remember how good and warm and capable he felt up close. It was arousing but shocking to remember how she almost nibbled on his cheek, the strong jawline she admires from the back of her American History class where she has a nice view of his shoulders and side of his face when he turns toward the blackboard. She couldn't forget how his eyes changed when she said he was sexy.

No one needs to know that she remembers how attracted she felt to him, how comfortable his hands felt on her when he helped her out of the car again, how stable he was when he helped her up the stairs, how strong and warm his body was when she leaned against him for support; how she didn't want him to leave... that she'd considered asking him to lay down with her, just so she could feel him close again, like they had the night he'd pulled her from the ugly terrors of the Upside Down...

And it was best to block all of that humiliation out. That was a secret. There was nothing beneficial to come from bringing that up. She was embarrassed. He didn't think of her that way. She'd been in the midst of a freak-out and was feeling vulnerable with him because he was helping her. That's. It. He would've done the same for his sister, or any other friend... if he had either.

Point was, she wasn't going to make things awkward because she'd had a Damsel in Distress moment. Even if she did think he was sexy, he was there as her friend only. He had even lied for Steve.

He'd also seen her at her lowest, heard her confessions about him, and not run away from her. He hadn't even flinched.

"Well... Thank you, Jonathan. Really." the gentle lilt in her voice stirs a memory of that night. He clears his throat before answering.

"Yah, of course. I mean, what was I going to do, just leave you there?" His glance over to meet her eyes lasts a little longer when he sees deep sincerity in her eyes, anticipating something. The question narrows his eyes, but he turns back to the road before meeting her first spark of hope. "I'm so glad i was there to help you, Nance, like now." He doesn't check her reaction - for safety's sake. If she's confused (she is) he doesn't see it show. She's grown accustomed to him backing away when she gets a little too... deep, too friendly.

"That's cool of you to let Will go by himself. You know his friends will look out for him."

"Yeah, at some point even my mom is going to have to back off a little bit. We just have always been extra protective of Will, even before... ya know."

"Yah, I bet. I mean I think the youngest always gets the most protection anyway, right?"

"Well, he needed it, more than I did." Nancy wonders if he is talking about Lonnie. "I just hope that he has an easier time in school than I did. I think he'll have a better time because he does have friends."

"And Lonnie won't be around."

"Yeah," he's not sure how he feels about her calling that out, "that won't hurt."

She forgets sometimes how different their childhoods were. He won't even call Lonnie 'Dad' anymore. Everything she's seen over the years tells her it must've been pretty damn bad, but she doesn't pry.

They sit in silence for a bit.

"Ok, so what junction am I looking for? Can you pull out the map, please?"

The year of unresolved tension is fully on display now as she slides over to study the map with him while he drives. She's a little closer than she really needs to be and still leaning in. Yet, it’s natural for her to be there, her voice softened because they are so close. His, gruffly low but soft.

They feel it. Again. Warm, electricity. His right hand instinctively wants to leave the steering wheel and wrap around her shoulder, but he keeps it gripped tightly. If they crash it's because he's sharing equal time staring at the road, the map, and her. She's woozy from the feel of his heat beside her, pulled just close enough to feel the current but not connect.

"Oh, yeah, here it is." After studying the map for a sparkling hot minute, she says, "Well we are looking for the 70 junction towards St. Louis."

"Ok, how far to this guy's place?" He shifts a little, bumping her knee. Sparks. The kind that make him clear his throat and readjust. She doesn't move.

"It's about 5 hours." 5 hours. Alone together.

"Ok, keep an eye out for a gas station. We should fill up before sundown. I don't know how late places stay open." He’d like to tell her she doesn’t have to slide back.

"You got it..." There's a slight hesitation as she retreats back to her side of the car, half watching for a gas station, half preoccupied by her thudding heart. What was that? Shit, what the fuck have we done?

In the tingling silence, they realize that the plan was to be able to get released in enough time to make it to the Investigator's house. If they get there at a reasonable hour this afternoon they hope he'll put them up for the night. In case that isn't possible, as it isn't now, they had prepared a Plan B. That plan is to find a hotel room. It was late afternoon, so clearly that was what was supposed to happen now, tonight, yet they were both balking at bringing that up, not wanting to be the one to point that out, for some reason.

Perhaps it was because of Nancy's admission, but the longer the awkward silence went on the more obvious it became that they were avoiding addressing the inevitable, that they had begun a game of Who Will Blink First.

After they stop for gas - an odd setting to realize her confession may have re-sparked a combustible interest - they speak only of The Lab and The Plan, dissecting what they saw, curious about the rotting pumpkins and soils they saw. Nancy hopes the gaping tear in dimensions beneath The Lab means El is still alive. Mike has been torn up and acting out not knowing what happened to her.

Jonathan gets a bad feeling for Will. Nancy is refueled by her anger for Barb.

When the sun sets and they can no longer see each other's faces, hours go by with no noise but the rock and punk music from the tape player and the rumble of the engine in the silence between songs. When Nancy occasionally finds a radio station they chuckle at the weird music or commercials they find, until they lose the signal and go back to tapes.

Normal friendly road trip things. Except while they both pretend to listen to the music, they are actually deep in their own thoughts, reinforcing the safety measures that have protected them for a year. Stubbornness, fueled by denial.

Taking on The Lab and perhaps the US Government was nothing compared to the paralyzing anticipation of discussing sleeping in the same room again. Why was it so scary if they were 'just friends'?

The moon will be about to rise before there is any discussion of a place to sleep.

 


	3. Ice Cream in The Upside Down

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Ch. 3 - Ice Cream in the Upside Down

  
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"Wow, what was that lady's problem?" Nancy is annoyed as she steps through their motel room door. The lady at the front desk had been outwardly hostile towards them, and she wasn't sure why. The way she hadn't acknowledged them walking in, then asked if they wanted a "single or a double" and stared at them as if they were... lying about needing a "double"... staring daggers into Jonathan as she slurped her fast food drink through a straw. Well, she just didn't understand why it was her business anyway. I mean, for all she knew he was her brother, or something.

"I dunno, she probably thinks I'm going to take advantage of you. She just doesn't know us, that's all. Nobody knows us here. Ok, which bed do you want?" His voice is soft, almost apologetic.

An already awkward situation had been amplified at dinner, and further awkwardness seemed inevitable, the pressure building to uncomfortable levels at times. Of course they could've asked for two rooms but the thought of being separated seemed worse.

In the end, neither one really blinked and brought up Plan B because when they stopped for dinner many hours later, they just happened to pull up to a diner sharing a parking lot with a small motel. A fact they both noticed, but did not comment on.

Mel's Diner turned out to be one of those messy, but cutely, quirky midwestern diners with two many Cuckoo Clocks and hockey jerseys, but really good homemade soup and pizza. They were keenly aware that they were no longer anywhere near Hawkins. Everywhere they looked was something new and unfamiliar, no familiar faces, or possibility of seeing anyone they knew. It was nice to eat at a restaurant they hadn't been to before, and order off of a menu they hadn't seen a hundred times in their life in Hawkins.

There was also a Pac Man machine, the fun table-type where player 1 and 2 sit across from each other. Nancy notices it first in the corner as they are finishing dinner.

"Hey, if that thing works, wanna get some quarters and play me?" she says.

"What thing?" he turns to see the Pac Man machine. "Oh yeah, looks like it works, the lights are on. No 'Out of Order' sign. But shouldn't we keep going, get back on the road soon?"

She can't believe that he's actually going to ride this sinking ship down to the bottom. "Well, it is getting pretty late..."

"Oh, true..." he pretends to check his watch.

"We could just stay here..."

"...Did I see a motel when we pulled in?" His attempt at being aloof while he sips his drink is almost convincing.

"...Yes, yah, I think there was one, didn't look too crowded."

"Oh, ok, I didn't notice. Glad you did though."

His cleverness is charming, as is his blush as he looks down, too keenly interested in the fry he's picked off Nancy's plate and is about to put in his mouth.

She'll let him have this one, call it a tie. Nobody really wins or loses if you never admit there's a game at all, right?

"Hmmm, yah, me too, so we'll stay there, then. Go get us some quarters, please." His shy smile makes her smile too.

"Alright." he wipes his hands on his napkin and places it on the table "I'm going to look at the dessert case, too. Want anything?" he turns in his chair, ready to stand.

"Ugh, no, I don't feel like celebrating just yet."

"We aren't celebrating. Just having dessert." She scrunches her nose at him. He really should be more worried about The Plan, too, and he should really check in soon with his mom, but for some reason he's not worried tonight. Not one bit.

He turns back to face her across the table. "Yes, tomorrow we will hopefully find this guy and he'll help us figure out how to make sense of the terrible things we saw today. But right now, I just want to beat you at Pac Man, so do you want dessert with that ass whooping or what?"

"Huh!" She's animated with mock offense. "Who says you'll beat me?" She eyes him with a flirty smile. His eyebrow arches smugly in response. "Fine. I'll have what ever you're having. As long as it's chocolate."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Four dollars in quarters, and a couple of scoops of chocolate ice cream later and they were still pretty much deadlocked in determining who was better at Pac Man though Nancy was slightly ahead. She thought she caught a glimpse of his scar at one point.

As they take turns, the person not playing gets an up close, unobstructed view of their friend who is too intently chasing down fruits and dots and running from ghosts to notice they are being admired.

He's never seen her tongue play with the corner of her mouth when she's trying extra hard. How adorable and soft she is up close. Her eyelashes flutter and something powerful stirs inside him. If she glanced up she'd catch him smoldering at him in a way he would not be able to explain or deny.

Her lips. He tries not to stare, especially when she gently wets them with a gentle push of her tongue. When she purses them tight, usually when she’s battling in the harder levels, he wonders if she kisses hard or soft, or both. When she wins, her triumphant 'Yes!!!' and unreserved, giggling happy dance, her hair softly bouncing, makes him wonder what her face would look like in ecstasy.

When his Pac Man dies he covers his face fake yelling, but emerges red faced and chuckling. She’s enchanted by his eyes this close, every gesture powerful, how his dark brow, the muscles in his face can be so expressive. Many years of not talking perhaps gave him this skill. She’s already decoded some of his looks, and is intrigued to learn more.

It's impossible for her to push away the recurring thought that his skin looks warm, his mouth delicious. A year ago she'd noticed how his tongue flicks between his lips, sometimes just before he's sassy. It makes her smile still.

They both get serious when it’s their turn, only slightly distracted by the pressure to not look stupid in front of the other player, the one that already played inside their heart and head today. They play for over an hour with smiles on their faces, safe in their bubble, away from Hawkins and anything associated, their worries in another dimension.

It's surprisingly easy here in this odd little place to pretend they are separated from their normal world, like the flea under the wire; only this possibility, this Upside Down, is filled with freedom and joy, and the only danger is promise and hope. Thoughts of touching -- usually off limits -- are not shoved away shamefully. There's little possibility of seeing anyone they know. It's freeing to indulge the madness for a while. They forget to pretend.

When the Cuckoo Clocks go off on the hour, he starts parroting the clocks while he's still playing and she nearly falls on the floor laughing.

"You are such a goober!" she slaps his arm playfully.

"Would you say I'm... Cuckoo?!"

“Ohmygawd, yeeess! Toetahlee!” he loves her Valley Girl impersonation. He's a big fan of her laugh, the one that ripples from her when she's relaxed, and the cool tone her voice gets when she's just talking and thinking out loud, not questioning or controlling herself. He's mesmerized sometimes by Nancy, being Nancy.

Her giggle, this liberated, unapologetic giggle right here in Mel's Diner, is the best thing he's heard all day, including Dr. Owens’s confession on the tape. It's a shame to make her stop.

"Even though I just beat your high score?"

"What?!" she stops giggling and gasps looking at his score "No! No! Noo!! You brat!!"

"Yes!!!" He's having his best game yet, so even though Nancy likes that pleased growl in his voice, she wants to win and decides to resort to psychological warfare. She wants to win.

"Are you ticklish, Jonathan?" Her impish tone coincides with a glimpse of her hand inching across the side of the table, closer and closer to the ticklish spots on his side. "Just wondering..."

"Don't. You. Dare." She's not scared by his stern warning. In fact, she's slightly enticed by it.

"What? I'm just resting my hand here. Relax." Her wicked giggle confirms there is nothing innocent about it. It's a well played act of aggression. "Boy, you must be really, really, _really_ ticklish..." Her hand moves slightly closer. He doesn't flinch but it's difficult.

"No! Bad Nancy! Baaad!!" He can't let her distract him, but it does fluster him enough to cost him at least one bonus listening to her cackle, thinking of her tickling him, touching him, with the hand she's resting in his field of vision. The hand that felt so nice on his shoulder blades when she hugged him last night.

But he's not surprised and he's ready for her. She's always been a worthy competitor, ever since elementary school spelling bees. He'd be angry if it wasn't so... fucking sexy, a definite turn on. Christ.

When his Pac Man finally gets cornered by ghosts and runs out of lives, Nancy feigning shock and sorrow for him, of course, he takes a break to celebrate the new high score. She's trying not to be turned on by the sight of him leaning back in his chair, triumphantly drinking from his straw smiling smugly back at her smug smile. He can't help but feel victorious, even in the face of her unorthodox tactics.

"You are wicked Nancy Wheeler. Also a cheater." The low rumble in his voice reminds her of a distant storm.

"Hmmm, who me?" She bats her eyes dramatically.

"Yah. _You._ " Thunder. Take shelter.

"At least I'm not stealing your drink and putting my cooties all over it." she smirks.

The look on his face as he realizes that he's accidentally grabbed her drink instead of his, stirs something devilish in her.

"Oh, shit, dammit, sorry! I'll get you a new one." He puts the cup down on the machine while she coyly snickers at him. He hides his soft face in his hands, elbows on the machine, head low, hair falling across his fingertips, cutely embarrassed.

"No, it's ok." She grabs the cup, looking him dead in his eyes peeking between his fingers. A few pieces of his hair fall around his eyes further blocking her view, but she can see his eyes still and she knows he can see her. Her tongue hooks and guides the straw into her mouth, wrapping her plump red lips around the spot where his just were, before sucking one long gulp from the straw, her lips slowly parting again. "We are partners in crime after all. What's a little cooties between partners taking down The Man."

Her teeth lightly bite the top of the straw as his hands slowly drop to the table. Staring at her mouth, his eyes momentarily turn feral, growling, tempestuous, sending shivers down her spine; a storm warning. When he quickly looks up at her eyes, she's very warm in places deep and low inside and it shows on her face, blinking back at him demurely.

Just as quickly he sits up with a sharp intake of air, blinking his eyes back to soft and silly and safe, and so does she, unsure what possessed her.

"Ok, well speaking of 'taking down The Man', it's your turn. Good luuuuck!" he taunts.

He sits back again, tightly crossing his arms, while she eagerly starts a new game. Jesus, what was that? Sharing straws seems personal, intimate. Closest he’s come to a kiss. Mercy. He hopes she doesn’t misinterpret the blush growing across his face. Actually he hopes she does misinterpret it as anything other than exactly what it is: the thought of kissing Nancy is to blame, as it usually is. He wants to kiss her pretty mouth, to taste her tongue. He knows that, but kissing seems like an abstract idea, something he can’t envision without blushing still, so it's not likely to happen. Not with Nancy.

Friends share drinks. He refuses to misinterpret her silliness as flirting or innuendo. Nancy doesn't flirt with him, she's just playful. She wants to win.

After she comes within 500 points of beating his high score, they decide to call it a night, agreeing that Jonathan won, but just barely so a rematch will be soon, with no cheating this time.

Nancy goes to the restroom and Jonathan heads to the register to pay their bill. He notices that the bill doesn't include their ice creams and mentions it to the smiling older lady behind the register wearing a 'Mel' name tag on her pink waitress uniform.

"Oh, hun, that's on the house. Date night special. We really enjoyed having you two here tonight."

"Oh, uh, thanks, but we're not on a date."

"You're not huh... hear that Gary, he thinks he's not on a date," she yells back over her shoulder.

"What? Why, is she your sister or something?" Gary, a lanky fellow with a grey mustache, dressed all in white, appears in the large stainless steel window into the kitchen.

"No... but we're not like that..."

"Hmmm? Well ya should be. The way she looks at you? She likes ya, trust me." Mel winks at Jonathan as she hands him his change, and then winks back at Gary.

"You need to trust yourself more young man. Take a chance. Ya like her donchya?" Jonathan opens his mouth to lie, but Gary stops him "Of course ya like her, what are ya gonna lie to me for? Who the hell am I?"

He's right; he can lie to himself, to Nancy, but there's no point in lying to Gary and Mel. Not here.

"Is it that obvious?" Jonathan’s sigh sounds defeated while Mel and Gary nod in unison. That's the second time today that he's had to face these questions, the first time being when Dr. Owens at the lab asked if they'd "been together long". This time however, rather than deny, he'll just put the sad facts out there.

"It doesn't matter. She only likes me as a friend. She has a boyfriend."

"Pffft, boyfriend." Gary can't help himself. "Ya know, neither one of ya were watching that game half as much as ya were looking at each other. She was staring at ya with big old puppy dog eyes too, ya know! Boyfriend. You can't fool me. It's been many years since I dated," he gestures to a grinning Mel, "but I'm not so old that I don't know what that means. Boyfriend. Ha!" He slaps the ledge of the window and points. "Not for long. She ain't in love with that guy, I'll tell ya that. If she is, then what the heck is she doing here with you, laughing and flirting like she was?"

He knows the answer is more complicated than that. There's The Plan to start, but for a second he does think that maybe it is just that simple. Wait. She was looking at him, too?

Jonathan startles when he sees Nancy headed their way. His nightmare would be for someone to call out his feelings in front of her.

"Uh, ok, well thanks for the ice cream. Appreciate that. Nice meeting you." Mel winks at him again and Gary waves a Go For It gesture at him, as Jonathan steers Nancy away from the register and towards the door. "Ready? All set?"

"Yep, you paid?"

"Yep. All square." He holds the door for her, walks with her to the passenger side door and opens the car door. She nods a quick thanks and gets in. As he closes the door, he glances back up into the diner windows and sees Gary and Mel smiling at them like they were watching their favorite romantic comedy. They especially like the part where Nancy quickly and subtly applies lip gloss while he walks around to his side of the car. 'Well,' he thinks, 'they are really going to get a kick out of watching us drive across the parking lot to the motel with the "vacancy" sign.'

Which is why when the lady at the Motor Motel front desk stares him down, he wonders if she can see what Gary and Mel just saw. She must've and he's worse than he thought at playing it cool. As long as Nancy doesn't see it. As long as no one calls him out on it, he can get through the next couple of days.

But why did Gary and Mel insist that Nancy likes him? That can't be true. She loves Steve. She made her choice a year ago and stood by it. It doesn't make sense. She's just playful. They don't know her. They don't know them.

Once they pick beds and check out the simple room, they start to settle in. He's been doodling at the motel desk while she starts digging in her bag and getting ready for bed.

"Hey can we stop by the library tomorrow? I need to make copies of something."

"What?"

"This!" He dramatically produces a piece of motel stationary with 'Jonathan Byers: Pac Man Champion 1984' drawn on it in large boxy letters, with a crudely drawn border of Pac Man chasing dots, ghosts, and what might be a cherry. "I know Will is the artist in the family, but I think it's pretty nice, right? I'm thinking I'll need a few to celebrate my victory appropriately, maybe order some business cards, too."

"Congratulations," she deadpans with laughing eyes. "I guess I'll make some copies of my hand then, while we're there. I'll leave them around everywhere to terrify you since my hand is soooo scarrrry," she teases.

"I guess I'll make some copies of my ass then so you can kiss it," he fires back.

"Oh my god, Jonathan!" He's glad she's laughing with him, and she is. He's getting entirely too comfortable around her. Fortunately, she can take his dorky sense of humor.

Later, they'll share toothpaste and then sit in their separate beds, ready to sleep, but unsure how to close out the awkward silence, the palpable tension still denied. They've had a glimpse of what they missed out on a year ago, their own version of The Anniversary Effect.

She'll touch her scar and wonder why they only hang out when the world's about to end. She'll finally ask to see his scar. With a flirty tone in her voice, still feeling competitive she'll point out hers is bigger, he'll congratulate her and they will get caught in each other's eyes again, pulled far away from comfort zones, too many things left unsaid and floating in the space between their beds. Hot feelings they don't know how to form with words will scramble their thinking. From there it spirals out of control.

When out of nowhere she asks what happened "to us", and why he "disappeared" he's caught off guard by the suddenly revealing question and doesn't respond the way she wants him to. He's left utterly confused. Surprised. Maybe a little defensive. Is she trying to make him feel bad, like he didn't do what he was supposed to?

He had thought about her. Of course he had. But he was also in complete wonder that his brother, that he buried, was not dead. Will was recovering slowly in a hospital, and Jonathan was trying to make sure he didn't get too bored, and that his mother slept and ate. And yes, he knew Steve was still in the picture.

Time was hard to measure in those weeks after Will was found. A month was almost a blink of an eye to him, but an eternity to her.

He remembers Nancy had called once, but his mom had answered. She was offering to help clean up the damage she’d done to the house, but his mom explained that Hopper was coordinating everything and she shouldn't worry, but thank you, and she was very grateful to Nancy for everything she’d done. They’d chatted for a bit, while he sat in the living room eavesdropping and pretending to catch up on homework that was sent home for him.

Nancy hadn’t asked to speak to him. From what he could tell she hadn't even asked about him.

He didn't know how to take that. He doesn't have any experience with girls. Next to none. He doesn't know what he's supposed to do, and has no one to guide him. She's the one that drifted off at the hospital and next thing he knows, she's back together with Steve.

He was prepared to defend her life that night. What he got for his efforts was a camera and a friend. Considering how awful he felt about the situation that lead to his camera being broken he was thankful he'd been forgiven at all. He convinced himself that being her friend was enough, and maybe all he deserved.

At her request, he turns off the light, which just amplifies the tension in the room.

Now turned away from her in the dark, knowing that she's upset with him, he aches. He aches in a place inside him he didn't know he had. He can't let her know, and it tears him up inside, angry and confused and heartbroken again. He can't let her know that he wanted her then. He can't let her know that he wants her still. He can't. He wouldn't know how, even if it didn't seem like a terrible idea to be so open about it. Even if she wanted something then, she's clearly not waiting anymore.

Mel and Gary must be mistaken. And he knows that girls can't be "stolen" from a guy. He's not like that anyway. It's the type of gross thing his dad would try to do.

His dad. Fuck him. Awhile ago he'd worked up the courage to ask his dad about girls and sex. That bastard responded by surprising him and trying to take him to a strip club out of town that everyone knew was also a whorehouse. It was Jonathan's birthday, yet his dad ended up slapping him and calling him 'a little queer, like your brother' when he froze and refused to get out of the car.

That was the last time he would ever trust his dad for any kind of advice, for anything. It was humiliating and ruined the thought of sex for him for quite awhile. He's had no one to talk to about girls. He wouldn't know what to do even if he was one hundred percent sure it was safe to make a move.

It didn't matter in this case because Nancy would reject him, and remind him that they are 'just friends' and then the rest of the trip would be miserable. He’s accepted that it won't happen ever since she went back to Steve and made him her friend. He’s not dumb; he knows what that means, in fact, he gets it. He does. So he hides his blushes around her and hopes she doesn’t catch him. Eventually it will stop, right? Sooner or later he's going to have to get over this crush, and think of other girls, other girls that will want him like he wants her.

As he drifts off to sleep, he fantasizes about what it would be like to hear her voice inviting him into her bed again. To know that with a few words from her, he could step across the small gap between their mattresses, slide under the covers into her waiting arms, and kiss her soft lips and tell her he's sorry, but not with roses.

He'd like to hug her close the way she'd hugged him outside her house the other night, with her cold nose nestled into his warm neck, and do whatever comes naturally. He'd like to show her how he feels. He'd like to do the things he'd only heard about. With her. He'd like to make her happy, to make her face light up. Most of all, he'd like to fall asleep and wake up next to her again.

On the other bed, Nancy is having a similar dilemma. He thought she was supposed to wait more than a month? Why did he think that? How long was she supposed to wait? She knew he was busy but she also thought if he was interested he would've let her know sooner than that. Wasn't that the way it worked - he was supposed to come to her? She feels so dumb, having even brought it up. It just didn't _'happen'_ for them, so she just needs to back off and leave it alone.

She had fun with him tonight, though. She'd felt for a moment like they were on a date, especially when he brought her a scoop of chocolate ice cream and a pile of quarters. "Yay!! _'You scream, I scream, we all scream for ice cream!'_ " She'd sang that silly kids' song, while his face lit up knowing he'd picked a dessert she liked.

For a moment, she wanted a parallel dimension to open up and take them to a different reality - a reality where she could kiss him when he brought her a simple, single scoop of her favorite ice cream, where she could tickle him when he was sassy and he'd pull her onto his lap, nuzzling kisses into her neck and tickling her too, where she could firmly and proudly answer "Single" to the snotty lady at the front desk.

The frustrating fact that she can't silently screams from her like an overheated kettle.

In the new reality, she wouldn't be turned away from him and a bed away. In the better dimension, she would be stripping off her gown and tugging his t-shirt over his head. She'd be rubbing her hands down his shoulders, his torso, and more. She'd be watching his face respond to her touch, his eyes growling and piercing like she'd glimpsed earlier. She wanted to know what it took to see that look again.

She wanted to feel what it was like to sleep on his warm, muscular chest, naked and satiated, listening to the soft thump of his heart. In the morning she'd shower with the door open because they'd no longer have secrets, nor walls. He wouldn't need an invitation to join her ever again.

'Stop it, stop this, just stop it, Nancy.' she says to herself. 'Godammit. Go to sleep, you have bigger things to deal with. That's what you get for trying to mix business with pleasure. Plus, you have a boyfriend...' The you-have-a-boyfriend argument had worked for almost a year to block thoughts of Jonathan.

She goes over the last conversation she had with Steve. This time it sounded like they really broke up. He'd not called or picked her up in the morning, he'd avoided her and when she tracked him down he was hostile. He'd called her 'bullshit'. And she didn't chase him. She didn't tell him she loved him. He hadn't been by her locker after 3rd period like he always had been the whole semester, even when they were miffed at each other. It was just denial to assume they _didn't_ break up, that he, at least, had had enough; yet she was doing little to resolve the question, which was telling.

In fact, she feels very ambivalent about her relationship with Steve at the moment. He didn't get why she was upset, why she couldn't just forget, and sit by while Barb's parents sold their house for a fruitless search for their daughter. He was hung up on something that wasn't even her point. He wasn't listening, as usual, and it made her frustrated and angry, as usual.

Even if Steve is sitting on her porch right now with roses, does she really want to accept them? He's not a bad guy, but it's always the same. The same recurring misses in communication and interests keep popping up no matter how many times they try. It's turned into something that's comfortable in an uncomfortable way. The fact she hasn't admitted it and let go yet doesn't mean it isn't already over.

About a year ago, in the woods, Jonathan had told her what Barb had told her: this isn't you. Was she stubbornly staying with Steve just to avoid hearing 'I told you so'? Was she so stubborn as to sacrifice her own happiness just to cling to her own disillusions and prove Barb and Jonathan and everyone else wrong about Steve?

Was there a reason to stay with Steve? Was there a reason to go?

She'd had so much fun at dinner tonight. With Jonathan. Effortlessly. It had felt like a date, minus kissing. She'd never had so much time to look at him up close, to experience his laugh and smile, to watch his tongue wetting his lips, to watch the subtle ways his eyes narrow and his eyelashes flutter when he's thinking, to feel his strength when he turns the joystick hard and shakes the whole machine, to see his eyes excited and light, instead of dark and haunted.

She fell asleep wishing she'd handled that last part of the night better. It didn't go at all as planned. Because it wasn't planned. Why had she foolishly brought that up so spontaneously? Just so she could feel rejected again? She'd managed to make something already confusing into a bigger muddle. He'd not... responded the way she thought he might. The rejection she felt a year ago had flooded her body again making her shut down and turn away.

She was confused. She couldn't figure out what to do when she was this confused. She couldn't plan because reading Jonathan was no simple task. His walls were high and his trust issues were deep. Perhaps because she understood some of his story that he'd shared, she had more access than most, but the mixed signals were still his best defense against her. They were both using mixed signals as a defense.

In the morning, everything went back to normal, exchanging pleasant "hey"s before taking turns in the bathroom and getting back on the road. A quick breakfast, some continued trash talk about the Pac Man title that was still hotly contested, and they were less than an hour from the address listed on the business card for one Murray Bauman, Investigative Journalist. Everything was going to plan. Back on track.

Normal. Except for the fact that they both now knew that she had waited. Waited. It had been said, and it couldn't, and maybe shouldn't, be unsaid. She only had to glide her thumb across the palm of her left hand to be reminded of why she waited. Her choice hadn't been immediate, or easy. She _waited_. For _us_.

The thought quietly drifted around inside him like a burgeoning rain cloud, not yet ready to land, to open.

 


	4. Consternation

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Ch. 4 - Consternation

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If Jonathan knew how she felt back then - the memories she warmed up in her mind when she needed to remember those couple of days in early November of last year which brought him into focus for her - she couldn't tell. In the midst of monster hunting, she'd actually had butterflies, felt attraction, and she'd let her mind wander to what it would be like to kiss him.

Pretending you don't have a crush on someone when you do is a major life skill one learns in Junior High and she had been a quick learner. It was just short of terrifying to think that a boy, any boy really, would find out that you wanted to know what it was like to kiss them. Especially if you weren't sure if they liked you, if they wanted to kiss you.

But this was even scarier than that. Riskier. Jonathan was special. Different. He filled a space in her life that no one else would ever be able to fill. Plus, she didn't think he had many friends other than her. They had been through something she'd never be able to share with anyone else. She couldn't ruin their friendship with her selfishness. If he wanted her, he would let her know. Isn't that how it worked in the movies? Good girls don’t chase boys. Not if they want to be respected. Right?

So she waited, patiently, of course, at first, knowing from Mike that Will was still in the hospital, distracted at times by Steve's attentions and willingness to wait to makeup for what he knew was wrong, allowing herself to grieve for Barb and process the nightmares she'd witnessed; and then she waited impatiently, genuinely surprised he hand't called or come by, testing her will power and stubbornness, feeling afraid that maybe he didn't want to talk to her like she wanted to talk to him. Maybe she'd misunderstood, or done something wrong. Maybe he thought she was just a boring suburban girl after all.

The sound of a car coming up the cul-de-sac or the flash of headlights through a window sent her racing to peek behind the drapes, but it was never him.

The phone would ring and each time she'd be disappointed to find everyone but Jonathan on the line.

Once, in a moment of weakness, she called his house hoping he'd answer, but ended up talking with Joyce, inquiring if she could help with anything. That was fine because she was glad she'd checked in with Joyce, but it still didn't satisfy her curiosity about Jonathan. She was too stubborn to ask about him even. She thought there was a chance Joyce would mention their talk and he might think to call her, but night after night he didn't.

She felt humiliation, and than a bit of anger, when Mike mentioned at dinner that Will was coming back to school and so was Jonathan. Steve was standing with her at her locker the next day, when she finally spotted Jonathan walking past the hallway. Her heart leapt and she refused to figure why. He saw her, pausing as if he may head her way, then softly smiled and continued on, with a nod. She nearly ran after him. When she caught up to him, she probably would've led with 'it's not what you think...' But that would've shown too much. As it turned out, she did the right thing to not chase after him.

She allowed herself to trust Steve again. He had also been a friend to her when she really needed him, and he was here for her now, apologizing and rebuilding trust. She could talk to him too about what happened that night, yet she found herself skipping over parts of the story that involved Jonathan. Those weren’t the type of emotions Steve needed to help her work through.

Steven Harrington's "fine ass" was a "helluva catch" according to Allie and Stacey and her other friends that saw him pursuing her and changing for the better. She couldn't deny that, and before Barb went missing she was _infatuated_ with him. He represented that innocent time she wanted to recapture, before monsters and spray paint and bear traps made her more shrewd.

Besides, Steve was doing what she had been taught was the way a man in love with you will act. He pursued her relentlessly, confidently, openly admitting how he felt about her, bringing flowers, calling when he said he would, making time for her, waiting patiently for her to give him another chance.

One day when Steve was studying with her in the library she decided to lean over and kiss him, catching him off guard. He really had been wonderful, and patient, and cutely persistent. He'd found fun ways to keep her distracted from her worries, encouraging her to forget and move on. She was happy to find there was still a spark in their kiss. He kissed her back like he'd been set free and she giggled with delight. His smile was adorable and sincere. She did love Steve.

Of course, just then, she’d looked up to see Jonathan passing silently by, seeing but not acknowledging them. Her next kiss was stronger, maybe a tiny bit spiteful; she allowed herself to be happy, to be loved. She simply couldn't feel sad about Jonathan anymore. She had to toughen up and get on with her life, like everyone around her advised.

The following Saturday evening, she was rushing through the kitchen and nearly ran straight into Jonathan coming up from the basement with Will, rounding the corner into the kitchen.

"Sorry! Hey!" he pulls up short, grabbing her shoulders to keep from crashing into her body.

"Oh, hi, hey, how are you? Hi Will. Feeling better?" Jonathan had showed up on her doorstep after all -- just not for her. She almost hugs him. It's the first time she's been able to see his eyes in awhile. Almost.

"Hey Nancy. Yah, I'm good." The younger Byers brother seems relaxed by comparison to the older Byers brother. Nancy has to admit it's good to see Will, too.

"We're good. You?" Jonathan's averted his eyes and stopped holding her tensed shoulders.

"I'm... fine," she lies.

"Are you?" It's almost a whisper, the sincerity echoes in his eyes.

"Yah, I mean, yah, I guess," she leans in closer to feel the warm hum between them. She missed him. Did he miss her?

"Uhhh... Hey, lemme ask you something?" Since it's just them in the kitchen he quietly brings it up, just not the 'it' she hoped for. "Did you have to sign as many papers as we did? It was like 10 things each."

"Oh, that... yah, it was a lot. I mean obviously we have to keep it a secret, right? Have to. We have no choice, so yah. Shouldn't be a big deal though. I really just want to forget about it all, anyway. I don't want to think about it any of it, at all. Ever again."

"Yah, for now, I guess." His response surprises her and he can tell.

"What? I mean it is forever, right?" She immediately hates how naive she sounds.

It's uncertain what they are talking about now as he looks at her, searching her face. "Yes, I guess it is forever. Can't be undone."

Her mom comes into the kitchen, breaking the moment before she can process what he means and respond. The Byers boys quickly say their hellos and goodbyes and start heading towards the door. As she follows them into the entryway, he turns back and mouths "talk more later" before sheepishly waving goodbye and heading out the door.

She bolts up the stairs to her room and hops onto her bed, looking out the window, watching them get into the car and leave. She doesn't know if she can be seen - it's likely given the light is on and she's got no place to hide behind the iron bars on her headboard - but she doesn't care. It hurts somehow to watch him walk away after waiting so long to see him. She hopes he does see her. But she has no idea if he does. Does he ever glance up at the window where they once shared a bed?

It was good she supposed that they had finally seen each other and without time for her to prepare. Her reaction was as honest as she would allow herself to be.

And they do talk more later. When Steve's not around of course. About the Lab, about the papers they signed, but never about the warm memories both of them still relive alone under the covers. Instead they call each other 'friend'. They become friends. The type that see each other at school, at family things, when he swings by to pick up Will. They end up on group projects together, studying for tests, she asks him for rides home from school when Steve has practice after and he has time before work. Sometimes he's excited about a new book or band he's discovered. She enjoys letting him ramble on trying to convince her that it will change her life.

It's easier for him than her to accept only friendship, having had so few friends.

She's determined to replace his camera. He and Steve have talked and Jonathan has given him no reason to think he's after Nancy. He never really did, not overtly at least. The pictures in the woods were a mistake, an insanely bad mistake, made worse by a misunderstanding. What followed was a broken camera, an invasion of privacy, another misunderstanding, terrible uses for spray paint, ugly accusations made in an alley, and the inevitable bruises, cuts, bloody knuckles, black eyes and finally, an arrest.

It got way out of hand. Steve and Jonathan had since cleared the air and declared a truce. They'd probably never be best friends, but Steve wouldn't be bullying Jonathan, or anyone, anymore. King Steve was growing up. They all had grown up the night they were forced to save each other from an inter-dimensional killer.

Inevitably, they also grew apart. Steve and Nancy drifted off to their world with the normal teenagers, while Jonathan continued his solitary life of work and family.

Jonathan didn't blame Nancy for her choice. Maybe he'd even anticipated it, which is why he talked himself out of calling her before he went back to school. He suspected she'd already returned to Steve and he wasn't surprised to see them together on his first day back. They made sense in a way he and Nancy didn't. Why make waves? He didn't need the embarrassment.

She wasn't planning on kissing Jonathan on the cheek when she gave him the camera at Christmas, especially not in front of Will, with Steve in the next room, but she couldn't resist. It felt like her last opportunity to show him she cared. She didn't regret her vulnerability that allowed him to show her his. In his eyes she found he wasn't completely closed off to her. They still had the power to move one another, yet they remained unmoved. A resistant space remained immovable and solidly placed between them.

It will be nearly a year later before they have another moment so honest. Predictably, they will turn away when the feelings burn too bright, too hot. They'll say goodnight and return to their rooms at Murray's house. That's their pattern - to chose safety, to heed fear, to refuse to blink first.

But what exactly are they trying to prove by pretending there's nothing there, that this need isn't real? and to whom?


	5. Project Vodka

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Ch. 5 - Project Vodka

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_Don't get me wrong, if I split like light refracted. I see neon lights, whenever you walk by._

  
By the time they pull up to Murray Bauman's strange looking address just before lunchtime in Sesser, Illinois, Nancy and Jonathan have been nearly constant companions for almost 2 days with no signs of wanting space, and no sign that either of them are willing to admit why.

Murray is an odd, intense man, paranoid but intelligent, and seemingly unself-conscious about spending the day in his bath robe. He listens to their story and tape several times, without saying a word. They open up and tell him absolutely everything they can think of in case some minor detail is important. It's unnerving to trust what he'll do with it all, yet they do it.

It irks Jonathan when Murray seems to ignore them. Instead of reacting to what they've told him, Murray puts on a Billie Holiday record and drinks vodka as if this isn't a serious situation, eventually arguing with Nancy, calling her naive.

When it seems they may have wasted their time in coming, Murray will have an idea. Just like he's watered his vodka down, they'll water the truth abut The Lab down to make it more fit for public consumption. It just might work.

Murray will pour them matching glasses of watered down vodka and they'll begin to execute their next strike on The Lab. As their glasses are drained and refilled, they decide to name it Project Vodka.

Murray and Jonathan edit and record a version of the tape to back up the letter to the press Nancy starts working on. When the tape is as good as it's going to get, Murray pulls a large box of blank tapes from a low cabinet and gets ready to start dubbing copies of their final version.

"Ok, someone, go to my study, top shelf of the book case is a box of manilla envelopes. Labels are in the top drawer of the desk. Grab a pen, too. Go."

"That sounds like a job for the Pac Man champion." Nancy snarks. Jonathan grins, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her before starting towards the office. He's feeling playful so as he sets his vodka glass down on the table beside her, he pretends he's going to tickle her. She jumps and pushes his hand away. "Very funny. Go." He obeys her eyes, walking away from her smiling blush.

"Well he sure doesn't say much." Murray quips innocently when Jonathan's left the room. She claims to be with that Harrington kid still but something's not adding up. He respects that they are handling these heavy situations with professionalism and maturity, but they are still such dumb kids in some ways.

"He's shy," Nancy defends, "but he's been the best partner for this trip, executed everything perfectly, and he keeps me sane, I'm so lucky to have him here with me."

"Yes, I heard that on the tape," he murmurs, meaning the earliest part of the tape she forgot to erase. He heard it while editing.

"What?" she responds softly, too focused on her composition to look up from her note pad.

"Oh, Nothing. So what kind of security did they have there? and tell me more about the rotted pumpkins you saw?" He enthusiastically diverts her to a new topic.

"Oh you'll have to ask Jonathan when he gets back, he saw more of it than I did. He had some cool theories he was telling me in the car though. Really smart stuff."

"Hm, ya don't say..." and she'll continue on oblivious to Murray's tone, oblivious to how her eyes dip and her cheeks color just a bit when she talks about her partner.

Absentmindedly, she'll take a swig from Jonathan's glass. She's mid-sip when he returns with the supplies, setting them on the table beside her, shaking his head and smirking.

"What now?" she sasses him.

"I guess this one is mine now?" He reaches over her and grabs her glass, taking a sip, while she realizes she's got his glass.

"Oh, whoops. Whatever, fine. Keep it."

He just grins at her attempt to be aloof, struck by something hiding in those blue, blue eyes.

'Gosh he's cute when he's being playful. Is he drunk?' She has to look away, so she turns to address Murray.

"Anyway! Ok, the letter is finished." She pulls the paper from the typewriter. "How are we going to get copies?"

"I have a Xerox in the utility room." Murray responds without looking up.

"You have a Xerox?" Jonathan is suddenly talkative.

"Yes."

"A real one?" Jonathan catches Nancy's eyes.

"Yes."

"A paper copier?"

"Yes." He turns and catches them cutting looks at one another.

"A full size one like at the library?"

"What the hell, Jonathan? Yes. A guy gave me a good deal on it. He was closing his office. I'm a professional and I take my business very seriously, ok? This is my home as well as my office."

He sees their eyes widening, both trying not to laugh.

"Ok you're both cut off if you aren't going to take this seriously. No more vodka."

"No, that's great! It's great!" Nancy pulls herself together. "Where is it? I'll get started."

The utility room is a cramped room at the end of a short hallway off of the main room. It's more like a closet now that the huge copier is in there. The copier is outdated and slow, but it will get the job done at about 7 seconds a copy. Murray and Nancy were getting the machine warmed up and ready when Jonathan left to try and call home.

There was no answer. He waited a couple of minutes and called back in case his mom had been outside for a bit, but still no answer. It's possible Will is at a friend's house, but he's not sure where his mom would be other than home. Her shift ended more than an hour ago. There must be an explanation. He'll keep trying. She should definitely answer in the morning. It's her day off.

Murray is still blasting Billie Holiday; the current song echoes hauntingly as Jonathan makes his way down the hallway. When he gets to the very dimly lit utility room, Nancy is alone, sitting next to the machine on a metal stool while a sliver of light seeps out from under the copier lid every seven seconds and flashes across her face like slow, deliberate lightening. He doesn't analyze the melting feeling deep in his heart when he sees her. Her far away look and pursed lips tell him she's worrying, perturbed.

_You have a way with you, You oughta know now, Just why I like you very much..._

"Hey, are you making copies of your ass in here?" She looks up to see him just outside the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

A relieved smile crosses her face. "You wish." It's a weak, weird comeback and she knows it, so she shifts the subject before he can call her out. "Did you talk to your mom?" The light in the hallway is stronger than the light in the room so it's hard for her to make out his face, but she admires the curve of his shoulders silhouetted in the doorway. She'd know his shape anywhere.

"No, no answer. I tried twice. I'll try again later." He glances around the cozy space to keep from staring. It's getting harder and harder to not get caught stealing glances. "I like your office."

"Hmm... it's more like a prison cell, but it will get the job done." She glances around chuckling, but then falls serious again, drifting off again.

_I want you so now, You have the lips I love to touch, You better go now..._

"You ok?" He steps two feet into the room. The light changes enough so she can see the sincerity in his face. It's not a throwaway question to be polite; her partner cares if she's ok, or not.

"Yah... I'm..." she shakes her head to try to clear her thoughts. "I feel like I'm going insane. This is crazy, right? We are about to do this... major thing. It's a big deal, but it's complete madness, right?"

"Yah. It is. I feel it, too." He knows it's a big step. For both of them. He shuffles a step closer. "You still want to do this?"

"Yes. Definitely. Do you?"

"Yes. I do. Definitely."

_There's the moon above, and it gives my heart a lot of swing_

Their eyes are locked and shining again, the copier light flashing briefly, exposing the honesty on their faces. Is it just the vodka that makes their thoughts swim? If she reaches for his hand would he take it? If he goes any further into the small room, will he be able to stop himself from going to her? Holding her? Kissing her? Lifting her up while her legs lock around his hips?

There's a long pause before he finally looks away and breaks the silence, stepping back between the doorway. The plan to water it down makes sense. After all, they've been successfully watering themselves down for a year.

"Ok, then. I'll go start writing those labels. Murray's got quite a long list." He taps the door frame before he goofily adds, "and no horsing around in here. A copier is not a toy. It's serious business." He thinks he's making an ass of himself, blowing it as usual, but she smiles at him with adorable eyes.

"Got it." she lightly snickers. Why does he have to be so cute and smart and funny, too? "The copies will be done in a couple of minutes. I'll be out of captivity soon."

He chuckles softly and remembers that he said he was going, fighting off the powerful urge to stay instead.

"K, bye." She senses his hesitation to leave; he turns and disappears from the doorway.

_You better go because, I like you much too much_

"Bye." She chirps after him, though she can't see him anymore, her head turning as if she could see through the wall and watch him walk away. Her hand strokes the scar in her palm. What the hell is she even doing here? It's all madness. Exciting, glorious madness.

 


	6. Madness

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Ch. 6 - Madness

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"To Taking down The Man."

"Taking down The Man!"

Murray is still playing jazz music as they toast and begin to celebrate their work on Project Vodka. The tapes are made and the envelopes are ready to be sent out in the mail. Jonathan makes a face as he realizes that these last drinks weren't watered down at all. Murray's just pouring straight from the bottle now.

He's not really anxious to get back on the road anyway -- that means their time together will end -- but he can't drive drunk, so he's glad when Nancy stops Murray from pouring more vodka for them. A seemingly innocent offer to let them spend the night quickly turns uncomfortable when Murray refuses to believe they are 'just friends' and can't share his guest room bed.

Chemistry. History. The real shit - shared trauma. Trust issues. Safety. Retreat. Her stutter when she claims to love Steve.

It's not really a game if you never admit you're playing, right? Well, Murray calls them out and even names the game. It's Bullshit. The game is Bullshit. And they've been silently playing for awhile. So they sell each other out when he puts them on the spot, still stubbornly refusing to blink first.

In the shock of Murray's analysis, Nancy rubs at her scar and knows it's true. At least, the part about Steve. A scar is an opening that didn't close the same way. It never looks the same. She can't be with Steve who smothers and controls her, Even if he has good intentions, he's asked her to be someone else, someone she isn't anymore. A scar doesn't lie.

And she doesn't want the retreat Murray has described. Nancy Wheeler leads, she isn't led, and she never retreats, not from The Lab or anything she really wants. At least, that's how she thinks of herself.

Murray's analysis of Jonathan hits deep. How could Jonathan have trust issues with Nancy, of all people? Why would he have come or done this dangerous thing if he didn't trust her?

He thinks he challenges authority because he knows how unfair life can be. However, Murray just revealed to Nancy the real reason: Because he's been programmed to reject you before you can reject him. Because of Lonnie. Because long ago he got really good at saying 'No'. To himself. For survival.

After Murray heads up stairs they'll quietly get ready for bed. Murray offered Jonathan the pull out sofa in the study, and Nancy took the guest room. They miss the hotel room where they could at least be mad at each other in the same room.

When she comes out of the bathroom, he'll be waiting for her, startling her heart for a beat. She'll pretend she's not disappointed when he only asks her for her toothpaste, trying to joke, gesturing oddly with his toothbrush and not really looking at her. She publicly rejected him again, denying any feeling for him. He feels exposed and dumb. How is he supposed to feel?

Of course, he did deny her too. And too much is out there now, revealed, with no place to go since it can't be unsaid or easily excused away.

Alone in their separate rooms, they'll toss and turn. Turns out it's easier to take down a government lab than admit to a crush on your friend.

They must be losing their minds. How did they end up here, their lives so drastically shaken up and different in just a few short days. What have they done? Again.

This is a mess. A once quiet game of Cat and Mouse is now a mess. Thanks, Murray. It's easiest to blame Murray.

She's going to go talk to him, clear the air. Murray made them both uncomfortable but that doesn't mean he's right. But before she can knock on Jonathan's door and give him the speech she's rehearsed, he's walking towards her in the living room between their bedrooms. Was he coming to talk to her, too? To say what?

Stumbling over their words, the lies continue, the affirmations that they are 'just friends', that Murray is too drunk to know what he's talking about, he doesn't even know them. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

"I'm glad we feel the same way." She says it and they both nod, but what does that mean? How _do_ they feel? _Do_ they feel the same way?

They walk away when the fact they don't _want_ to walk away is in plain view, unwatered down. They walk away anyway.

The disappointment sets in when they get back to their rooms. They did it again. They failed again. They didn't get any answers. This isn't what they wanted.

Dammit.

She's too angry to be mad. She needs to at least tell him that she knows she doesn't love Steve. That part is true. She just wants to get that out there. But as she's hopping off the bed and headed to the door, she knows she's lying to herself. It's just an excuse to be near him again and see what happens. Dammit, why hasn't he come to her door yet? This is maddening.

Being away from her is not what he wants. The separation gnaws at him until he finds himself walking out the door, his feet beyond his control. Dammit. He's tired of pretending he doesn't see something in her eyes telling him she _does_ feel the same way. After a year of telling himself _'No'_ the answer must be _'Yes'_ this time. There is no plan of what to say when he gets to her door, but it opens before he can even knock.

Her eyes switch from determined to shocked.

And then, his lips are on hers. It's pure, honest Jonathan for him to ask her and tell her without words. She has to push away just to make sure it really happened.

His eyes. _Do you want this, or what? I'm right here._

Her lips. There will be no pride this time. She does. She wants him madly.

And there she is, the other pull to his magnet, the source of his attraction, letting him this time, letting him hold her face in his hands and kiss her instead of stiff hugs and averted glances. They've hungered for so long they are ravenous. All the uncoiled tension lights up the room, the built pressure undeniable, exploding in their kiss. This time there is nothing preventing the inevitable from happening. This time there is no tension between two magnets to keep them floating and pulling yet not touching. No space. No lies. No holding back.

His head gently tips below hers and nudges her backwards, a gentle hand on her hip guides her back into the guest room. She slams the door behind them. Alone, at last.

Backing up to the edge of the bed she sits and he lands next to her side, his mouth moving to her ear, nibbling down her neck. She gasps when she slips her hand under his shirt and finds a little sliver of his bare skin at his waistband, warm and delicious. His mouth lands back on hers, and she welcomes his minty fresh breath and the soft push of his tongue against hers.

She starts to lift his shirt and he hesitates, shyly pulling back.

"Don’t get all shy on me now, mister," she reassures him and he rejects his tendency to hide. Pulling his thermal top off, his hair flying up, he flings it to the ground, before finding her open mouth again. Her hands grip at his chest and he cups her face and moans into her mouth.

Jonathan continues to be a man of few words, but endless tenderness and passion. Nancy is reduced to a whimpering junkie, begging for his kisses like a hungry baby bird.

Neither one can really put into words what they want to say, so they talk through kisses, warm embraces and soft hands through hair. Her sighs sound like her and it's music to his ears. She moans when his soft hands grip her sides. When she realizes she's still wearing her nightgown they adjust for a minute to let her sit up enough to take it off, flinging it away, pushing back further onto the bed and pulling him back and down beside her.

He fails to hold back a shy smile as they lay down and he takes in her naked body and breasts. The feeling of flesh on flesh arouses him more. If that's as far as they go tonight he's happy. His hardon of course wants more; well, if you can have more of something you've never had.

Geez, he’s grinning out of control, but sobers up a bit because she looks like she needs to say something serious. Between gentle pecks, his eyes ask her to tell him.

"I’ve wanted to kiss you for... so long."

"Yah?"

"Yah." They both sigh a panting, relieved sigh, exhilarated at the truth. She can't stop kissing him, more and more passionately, her hands on his face. Tonight there will be no more mutual pining, only mutual pleasure.

"Me too. I don't want to be just friends, Nancy. I was coming to tell you that."

She had been coming to lie to him some more about how she felt, some weird pride gesture, or something, but just an excuse to be near him. She's glad he kissed her and ended so much nonsense.

"Yah, I don't want you to be my friend either?" she says semi-sassy continuing to plant juicy kisses on his lips.

"I'm serious." He's giggling and feeling vulnerable, but also compelled to get his point across.

"I know you are, so am I." She looks at his face. Then she gets it. "It's over. That's over. Don't worry. I want you. You."

"Not even that..." should he even bring it up right now? maybe not.

"Stop talking. Stop talking when a girl tells you she wants you, Jonathan. I want you. You want me? Then kiss me." She drags her fingers across the back of his neck. "Kiss me. Kiss me. Kis..." He quiets her mouth with passionate lips and a flick of his tongue. Nancy just told him to kiss her; what else was he supposed to do? She does the sexiest thing ever in his life so far, and kisses him back, her soft hands kneading at his body, the roll of want flooding both of their senses.

They kiss for such a long time, just lips rolling against one another in extended embraces, both fully committed to letting go, getting more and more lost every minute. The conversation their lips are having is so tender, grateful to finally be here, but also so pleading, urgent, earnest. The feel of her dainty but strong hands on his arms and neck and shoulders seems unreal.

His hand at some point gets brave enough to touch her breast. The soft, warm spot he's been feeling against his chest has a twin and his free hand cups it gently, stroking her firm nipple, the texture enticing in his hands. She whimpers when he deprives her of his mouth, but gasps when he moves it to her sensitive nipples.

Her back arches against the sensation of him caressing her chest, every inch adored by his hands and mouth; he can't help the firm sucks and nibbles that make her shudder and buck against him. His hands are large and gentle, gliding over her body, gripping her in all the right places. She arches up further, her hand over her head, stretched out, open and exposed and completely given to him.

When she drags her nails through his hair, he loses all of his manners and his hand slides lower, across her rolling abdomen, over her panties, gripping hungrily at the soft, hot spot he finds between her legs. He growls against her nipples before returning to her lips.

She moves her leg and pulls him on top of her, opening her knees to cradle him between her legs. He's hesitant, shy to place his weight on top of her, knowing she'll feel him, so she bucks her hips up into his hard bulge and grips his body between her thighs, pulling him down on her as she drops her hips back down to the bed.

"Oh, God." It's unclear who said it, or if they both said it, or if they just felt it when he pushed and rubbed against her that first time. He has nothing to be shy about as she whimpers and grinds back against his unexpected girth. Lightening. Their naked chests are hot with the sense of flesh on flesh. Her hands slide up onto his shoulder blades like she's done when she hugs him, only this time they drag hungrily down his muscular back, starving, needing. She turns her head to nip teeth on his bicep, growling. He pushes harder against the places she is grinding which only makes her moan deeper, lower. Lightening. Thunder. Their faces. Oh God.

She's biting and sucking on his bottom lip when she can't take anymore, pushing against him to lift her ass and start to remove her panties.

"Take yours off, too."

"Ok, but..."

"It's safe. I take something. Jonathan..." the desperation is implied.

He can't get his pants off fast enough.

She can't get him inside her fast enough.

They've waited long enough. Mercy. It's more than enough.

At last. His whole body vibrates with that first slick-tight push inside her, and watching her face. She wants him, she's making that clear, he has no excuse to safely deny it. Full, joyful sounds, giggle from his lips. Absorbing everything that is "Nancy..." He sighs her name into her ear and she gasps. She welcomes him inside, gleeful and whole, running her hands up the back of his neck and through his hair while he shivers and she shudders at how good he feels deep inside her.

"Nancy..."

"Jonathan..."

Amid gentle kisses, they find each other's eyes. No more words. No more lies. Only this. Awkward, inexperienced thrusts quickly turn intensely passionate, signifying this bond, this initial connection. The first time. Their first time.

Each thrust is a deep emotion, answered by raised hips, wanting more. All the hot, tense friction echos in their visceral grunts and groans, panting more and more, a primal tone in all of his sounds. She spreads her legs wide. Open. Raw. They welcome the deep connection. Their bodies fit, mind and soul too; the joining of continents; the airglow on fire. Oh, God.

She's touching his face, kissing his lips, shivering all over from physical and emotional pleasure. He's here. He's finally here. A sentiment he clearly shares. They can't get any closer.

This is the most perfect their lives have ever been. The most whole. The epitome of Over Joyed.

She's riding waves of pleasure and satisfaction as he increases the speed then stops suddenly.

"Oh shit..." he starts again, driving deep, clutching her to him passionately, holding her face.

"What?"

"I can't stop... fuuuckkk... fuckkk..... oh my gawddd...." She relishes the feeling of him pushing hard and orgasming into her for the first time, wrapping her legs around him comfortingly, holding him as he shivers and twitches, soothing, her hand patting softly on his contracted ass. The erotic echo of his unbridled coming noises resonates in the quiet room, just above the faint hum of their heavy whimpers and soft breathing. She kisses the side of his head.

The first thing he's aware of his how tight she's holding him, her hands soft in his hair. He tenderly kisses her neck. "Sorry, I'm sorry." He's embarrassed he came so quickly, and sheepishly kisses her cheek.

"Hmmm... don't be." she glows at him, lifting his head to look at her. She kisses his mouth, knowing it doesn't matter -- this is far from over.

"I didn't know how to stop it."

"It's ok, really. I'm not complaining. That was... fucking hot."

"Yah?"

"Are you kidding me? Wasn't it?"

He can only blush and kiss her smiling face, still flushed with sensations from his orgasm. Beaming. God she loves his smile, his lips. He rests his head on her shoulder and waits for his heart to stop beating out of his chest.

He finally lifts his head to look at her.

"Hey," the sweetness in his voice stirs her. She wants this to be special for him.

"Hey," she beams. "You ok?" His eyes close blissfully as she runs her fingers through his hair.

"Mmmm... I'm great. You ok?"

"I'm fantastic." She pecks his lips making him smile. "I will need you to find me something to clean up with though." Even in these practical matters, she can't stop kissing him and talking softly in a way that stirs him.

"I can do that." He starts to move to get up, but is pulled back in to her kisses. Every time he moves to get up, she pulls along with him, ankles locked around his hips, her hands gentle on his cheeks and he falls back on his elbows and covers her hungry mouth, rewarded with her plump lips.

"I thought you were getting up." she teases.

"Are you going to let me?" She giggles devilishly, stirring him again.

He kisses her hard, his hands cupping the back of her head, feeling the full force of his kiss, unrelenting, until she whimpers. Fuck. She's never been kissed like that before and she can only gasp and pant when he finally releases her breathless mouth.

They both sigh as he pulls out and she allows him to stand up, her arms and legs surrendered and falling away, panting as if she had orgasmed, too, from his kiss. As she slips under the sheets he starts looking around the room for something to help her clean up. He’s dizzy and light still, goofy and adorable in his elation, clearly inebriated, but not with vodka.

Her giggle gets his attention and he feels self conscious. She's blown away at how excited she is to have just taken this step. Jonathan is naked, walking around shyly covering himself and she can't help but giggle. He's beautiful, muscular with a cute butt. He's her dirty secret, finally indulged.

"God, you're hot. Don't be shy." Her words only make him blush more.

"Easy for you to say, you have a sheet."

"Oh, ok, fine then." She throws off the sheet and watches his face. He freezes at the sight of Nancy on her side, her top leg folded over in front of her body, hiding her pussy. Her head propped up by her arm, elbow on the bed, hand supporting her head. Her other hand lays shyly across her breasts. Her bent leg accentuates her slender, sexy legs and the delicious curve of her hip, teasing him with a glimpse of her perfect bottom. His hand falls away, revealing his cock to her, and she removes her hand from her breasts and uncrosses her legs. Everything is now in plain view but mostly they look at their eyes. They smile. No more hiding.

He wants to go to her immediately, but first remembers that he needs to find something for her. At last, he spies a tissue box, low on a shelf. He flicks the light off, grabs the box and bounds back to bed and under the sheet she holds up for him to slide under and into her arms, kissing her face. Back where they belong.

"Thank you," she says sweetly as she takes the box. They are still the same; they still talk the same, just now they do it from the comfort of each other's arms, warm flesh pressed together into one force. When she's done cleaning up, she lays on his chest, propping her head on her arm so she can look at him.

He's been gently stroking her back and shoulders, shyly exploring her bottom and legs, looking at her, really looking, smitten, smiling and happy in the afterglow of his first time.

He's thinking about stopping at Mel's Diner tomorrow on the way home, happy to give Mel and Gary the satisfaction of saying "I told you so". He's also thinking about where he wants to take her on a date... if she wants to, that is.

"You're such a liar," It's a teasing accusation she's made. "You said you didn't like me 'like that'. You're a liar. A sexy liar, but a liar."

"Hmmm, takes one to know one."

"What? Not me..."

He props his head under his arm to look at her. "You think I'm sexy, eh?" He arches an eyebrow at her. "Well, that's old news."

She immediately knows she's been caught. "Yeah, ok, I've had my secrets, too."

At last the timing lines up, where no one is in denial, both ready to risk. The reasons, excuses, lies, denials, and safety measures are pointless now. The secret is out, and it's the best one they've ever heard.

"I don't want to lie anymore," she continues. "Not to you. We lied so much I don't think we even knew what the truth was anymore."

"So what you said to me on Halloween -- was that a lie, or a secret?"

"It was the truth. All of it was the truth."

He only waits a beat, just long enough to make her afraid of what he's about to say. But it needs to be said.

“Don’t go back to him.” The 'please' is implied.

“I won’t. I can’t. I don’t love him. I do, but only like a friend. I know that now.”

There is a difference. There are things still between the lines, things obvious, but unsaid with words.

For now, he wants to kiss her mouth again. She wants to feel him take her breath away again. Maybe it's the vodka, but it's exciting to be so out of control, vulnerable and vaguely terrified.

He rises slightly and slowly guides her onto her back so he can lie between her legs again. He's already hard and gently rubs his cock against her thigh and between her pussy lips.

"Hmmm that was quick." It's been nice holding him and talking, but she misses the hotness of his mouth and all of his heat while he's inside her.

"It was fun, though, right? Let's do it again." His boyish giggle contradicts the man's hands, gripping her hips, dragging his nails down her ass, the heat from his cock, unapologetically hard and ready again.

"If you insist..." she purrs, her eyes narrowing as her smile widens.

"Oh, we aren't done, yet. Oh no, not even close.” He grinds against her, his hand dragging down her chest. “Now where were we..."

"Ohhhh." She shudders through her shock at this first glimpse of a stronger side of Jonathan she always wanted to see. "Yes, sir..." Nancy, the sex kitten approves of everything he's doing, drawing her nails down the curve of his shoulders.

He pushes up on fully extended arms, back swayed and looking down at her with a hot gaze, storm clouds and fire in his eyes. Their eyes meet in a delicious burn. This storm has enough power to roil all night.

Rising to her elbow, she grabs the back of his head with her other hand and kisses him forcefully, her legs lifting and falling open for him, while he slides in to her tight, wet pussy - Dear God Yes, this is why we are alive. He overwhelms her with gentle, sensual fucking; he sighs when she rubs her hand down his warm, hot chest, gently exploring lower, tracing the hot ridges of his body, the soft trail of hair from his belly button and down. The way they roll and moan, breaking gasps and soft whimpers, melt them and meld them, forged...

She's discovering his face with her hands. It feels like him, the face she knows already, his lips are sensuous and strong as she suspected. His jaw rests perfectly in the palm of her hand.

Delicate fingers make their way to his mouth and join in to their kiss for a moment. His mouth feels delicious sucking on her mouth and her fingers, panting as he fucks into her, soft whimpers in their sighs.

Her dripping fingers emerge from their kiss and she knows where to put them to use. He's distracted when he realizes, which is good because he's trying to last longer, but bad because feeling her fingers slide around her clit, occasionally scissoring her fingers around his pistoning cock, is testing his everything.

At times, he can hear her moaning something under her breath before he realizes she's saying 'feels so good, feels so good, feel...'

"Fuuuck, _you_ feel so good." his low whisper make her twitch with a groaning pleasure washing over her body, working her clit and nipping at his bottom lip and his chin as he arches up further, exposing his willing neck to her gentle teeth, while he pushes into her again and again. She growls low, unhinged. Her heels hook around him, just under his ass, encouraging his strokes, helping him fill her.

"Jonathan," she's overwhelmed by the sound of his name. He's finally here. Fully here. They are both aware of an increasing rhythm, blurring the edges, a rising burn inside them, a celebration. Fuzzy moments where their hands seem to be everywhere at once, echoing music and joy and light and sex and passion and desire and danger and debauchery and freedom and all things that say Hell. Fucking. Yes.

She puts her fingers on his lips, so he can taste her. She's filled with sinful thoughts when his mouth eagerly sucks her clean, his eyes rough and crude. When her fingers return to teasing her clit, their foreheads drop together without losing sight of their burning eyes. Cloudburst. No one can save them now.

Her groans escalate slowly and he understands what that means when her pussy clamps around his cock. Gripping the back of his neck, she snarls and shouts her orgasm into his mouth, warmth spreading across her body. He soon joins her, grunting as they collapse, her hand lifting his head by his hair so she can watch his eyes rolling back while he comes deep inside her.

"Ohmygawdd..."

"Holy shit..."

Hell. Fucking. Yes.

They struggle to catch their breath, gasping and shouting.

They know now just how deep they are in. Pretty fucking deep. Panting and gripping and kissing and thunderous heartbeats will be a recurring theme tonight. Their post orgasmic bodies tingle and beg for soft touches and kisses, heightened and erotic. The pleasure never stops; it keeps showering down upon them. They are willingly in over their heads and drowning.

They keep kissing, facing each other on their sides, oblivious of anything in existence except for each other. The kisses grow slower and softer until they just peck sweet kisses on cheeks and eyelids and noses and lips hovering centimeters apart, slowly regaining conscious of the world around them.

"Are you trying to kill me?" There's a softness in his voice she doesn't recognize.

"No way. Never." She's still kissing him. "This is so much better than I'd imagined."

"And what did you imagine?"

"Things..." she's suddenly shy. "I knew you were sexy. I knew it."

"Geez, stop."

"I did though. I felt something. Between us. A lot."

"Yah."  
  
"But you felt it too though didn’t you..."

"I, yah, every time. All of the time. You’re pretty cool. Good kisser, too, it turns out... hmm..." He leans in to hold her face for a grinning kiss. Warm sparks. A rush. Wow they’ve never felt something this intense.

"Fuck, you're going to kill _me_ if you keep kissing me like that." She’s stroking his wrist lovingly, ending in a tender grip.

"I've waited a long time to kiss you, Nancy." His thumb lightly traces along her lips before he kisses her once.

"Wow, and all this time I didn't think you liked me."

"You were wrong."

"I sure was."

"Guess I was wrong, too.”

"We were stubborn."

"Yah."

“Sorry.”

“Me too. I’m sorry.”

They pull their bodies together tight. She buries her face in his neck, nuzzling her nose against his neck and kissing him softly under his chin. He finally gets to place a soft kiss on her temple, and one in her soft hair, breathing her in.

We. Us.

They've been in love this whole time. The madness was staying apart.

He helps her cleanup this time, and then suggests he should go down to “inspect the work” and she giggles, loving that he's so openly mischievous and bold, his shyness slipping away. He kisses her body and legs, little spasms of glee escaping both of them as their fantasies - the little pictures in their heads that sometimes they would indulge, pictures of them like this as a couple, and of course, like this - their dreams, the ones they’d explain away, it all lives up to the hype, it is fucking amazing. Hot and Naked and Amazing.

His inspection is very thorough, even rolling her over on her stomach so he can plant soft kisses all over her back, massaging her shoulders. She sighs as he kisses her softly on the back of her neck and moves down her spine. His tender lips and hands on her ass and thighs are so erotic they let the opportunity for an ass kissing joke go by. It would be funny, but it's not worth ruining the moment. There are no more reasons to use humor to hide.

She’s slightly shy when he finally rolls her back over and starts to explore her further, his warm hand dragging down her body announcing his arrival, his curious fingertips gently tracing and sensing every fold, every curl, moving down. The turn of his head and a kiss on her inner thigh produces a soft sigh. A happy sigh. She ruffles his hair as his fingers now start traveling lower, deeper, closer.

The ask is in his eyes. The lowered brow, the piercing stare. His fingers still gently exploring her. The ask is shy but dead serious.

As if she would say 'no' now. But that’s the charm of this being his first time, their first time.

She comes up on an elbow, her other hand to his head, leaning comfortingly on her inner thigh, and holds his cheek, his smiling face. "Here... watch..." she whispers. Her hand shows his hand (his clumsy hand, he thinks) where she's most sensitive. "It’s hard to explain. Everything really feels good though if you touch it right, with the right pressure... yes, hmmm... like that." She's fighting her own shyness now, her own newness.

He starts to kiss her thigh as thick fingers push inside her. Her scent. He groans his hot breath on her flesh thinking of her fingers in his mouth earlier. His cock reacts. The words come out of his mouth thoughtlessly, rough "I want to put my mouth on you, to kiss you there." Nancy faintly gasps partly from hearing the same primal tone she heard in his voice the first time. He immediately regrets how vulgar that sounded, but it's true.

There's a moment of shock for Nancy but not for the reason he thinks.

"You want to?"

"Yes." A sweet vulnerability flashes in his eyes, mixed with a confident desire.

"Yah... ok." She's happy to let him try.

He looks devilishly pleased, his hair mussed and hanging in his eyes, framing his excited face.

The tickle of his hair on her thighs is unexpectedly titilating as he positions his face between her legs. The first time he puts his soft, warm lips on her she gasps at the new sensation. When he presses his tongue and sucks where she had been touching herself, she tenses.

"Is that ok?" she can feel him say it in warm breaths against her clit.

"Yes. It's just super sensitive. Please don't stop."

He obliges, he's happy to oblige. Now he knows it's a good thing when she tenses. That helps him not react when her thighs clamp against the side of his head momentarily.

A tongue can be tight and hard, or it can be soft and sensuous. There are a lot of things a creative boy like Jonathan Byers can do with that information, especially when inspired.

Everything he wants to do to her, she seems to like. He's losing his mind in her scent and feel, rubbing his nose to her clit, dipping his tongue inside her, when she really starts gasping and rocking against his face. He's happy he's able to open his eyes and look up at her. She meets his gaze and the fireworks between them begin again... so much said in a glance.

"Do not stop, I might come again. So good..."

He won't stop anything, including staring into her eyes with hot, dangerous intensity.

She starts to twitch, still unsure if she'll come, but the way he starts licking her clit and gently sucking her, firm fingers sliding back inside, is sending hot rushes up and down her body.

And his eyes. She knows her friend Jonathan's eyes. But these eyes... Fuck. Me.

She stops thinking. He watches her head surrender and fall back, her mouth open, her body rippling. She can only feel her body giving in like her heart did when she opened that bedroom door. She can still see his savage eyes in her head.

He's watching her as he's grinding slowly against the bed, trying not to come himself. Something deep inside him stirs when her wet mouth glistens in the dim light, her plump lips parting. To see her breasts rising and falling, her hands gripping two of the most perfect nipples in the world, he's quite sure. None of his fantasies about Nancy were ever this good.

He squeezes her hips, her ass, stroking a feverish hand up the sexy front of her thighs. And her taste. The slick flesh sliding along his lips tastes warm, sweet, uncivilized. Her clit is a special morsel, like the cherry on top of a sundae. Flicking it with his tongue makes her pussy react and twitch, clenching around his fingers. He uses his whole face to hopefully make her feel good and is rewarded with a wet nose and juices dripping down his chin.

When she comes she grabs the back of his head and smothers him in her folds, bucking hard against his face, his happy moans humming against her clit.

When she releases his head, he kisses her gently on her clit, amazed at how she shakes, moving up her inner thighs while she gasps for air. Her face is beautiful in ecstasy as he believed it would be. Her breasts heave, her hips tip, blissfully unsteady.

His hands, warm and sensual, slide over her body, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes have shut so she feels, not sees, him glide his hands along her legs, her tummy, her breasts while she rides out the hardest orgasm she's ever had. Soft kisses on her stomach surprise her in a brilliant way. Catching her breath isn't easy when he's around. It never was, but now there's many reasons why.

"Jesus, Nance. Do you know how fucking beautiful you are?" He's over her again about to kiss her mouth. She wants him to kiss her mouth until she's stupid. Better yet, she wants to return the favor. She wants to watch his face fall apart in euphoria. It's her version of taking down The Man and he's got it coming.

"Come here." She rolls him over, her tongue shoved firmly in his mouth so he can't respond.

He doesn't need to respond. She wasn't asking. He just rolls on to his back and let's her straddle him.

Even in the dreamy remnants of her orgasm, she seems a little shy, her lithe, naked body not quite self assured of what to do. So many things to find charming about her, he thinks. She should never wear clothes. Ever. God, she's hot.

When he realizes what she's got planned his eyes widen with excitement and his breathing quickens. She licks her palm and strokes him her eyes firing with desire, kiss attacking his mouth. His thick cock burns hot and hard in her hand. He watches her look down and then look back at him approvingly before kissing his mouth hard again.

Electricity floods his body, and he surrenders to its jolts and shudders, moaning a slow hum of sustained delight. She gently explores the inside of his thighs, gently tickling and stroking his balls while his eyes flutter. She resumes stroking him. He grips the sheets so hard he might tear them, until one of the elastic corners finally surrenders and pops on to the bed.

He feels like her prey, only she's not hunting and capturing him to hurt him, but to make him whine with pleasure. Her mouth moves to his neck, slowly kissing her way across his shoulder and down to his chest, kissing and tasting his warm, firm skin.

Her delicate tongue circles his nipple, a sensation he can't really believe. Every where Nancy puts her tongue makes him shake and groan. He hopes Murray is passed out because neither one of them is even trying to be quiet.

He twitches when her hand drags down his side and she kisses his belly.

"Ticklish. I knew it."

"No. Shush."

Their feisty giggles soon turn back into sighs of pleasure. He can't believe she's about to do what he thinks. Her mouth lands at the base of his hard cock, resting on his belly, and he makes a noise that makes her buck her ass up into the air, and kick her feet against the mattress gleefully.

Nancy's full lips work their way up his meaty cock, and he can't help but look. She looks at him and slides the thick tip into her mouth, her plump lips sliding down the shaft. He must be dreaming.

Those eyes.

The piercing, growling eyes that made her wet at the diner. Yes. She wants that look to haunt her dreams, so she slow-sucks him up and down watching his face, his eyes, grow hotter and more intense, until he's actually growling at her through gritted teeth. She's blowing his mind.

Her eyes. Speaking to him in passions, fierce and beautiful. He can't look away from the wicked glint he'd seen at the diner that made his cock twitch in his pants. It doesn't stop this time, she doesn't hesitate and hide her eyes.

When he gets close to coming she stops. He's too gone to argue. She starts to sit up but stops to tap his dick against her breasts and he sighs, gasping for air. It's all way too much, yet he'll never ask for mercy.

She carefully takes his rock hard cock, lifting slightly off of his belly and puts it underneath her, starting to sit, sliding her pussy onto his cock. A reversal of friction. He's never felt anything like this before.

"Nancy..." he groans out her name and her pussy reacts. "Nancy, fuck, Nancy..." there's a desperation in his moan that melts her. She touches her clit and her pussy contracts on his cock, making sure he feels her desire for him.

"Yes..." hearing his pleasure, produces a hissing sigh from her gasping mouth. "Yes, Jonathan..." They've never been so untamed and free.

"Nancy, Ohmygawd, Nancy... _so good..._ " she's beyond turned on as his warm hands grip her thighs and drag fingers down to her knees, leaving pink marks. Her clit hums under her fingers, more turned on than she's ever been, tingling and pulsing like never before, her hands learning quickly, her hips tipping to control where his thick cock stretches and rubs her inside. Warmth spreads out from her clit to her entire body.

"What wait sl-slow down.. I'm gonna come.." After what her mouth just did to him, she's riding him too close to the edge.

"No, it's ok, come baby." She slows down anyway and intensifies her strokes for a second and is rewarded with a volley of his breaking gasps and moans. God, he makes her feel so confident and powerful. She doesn't know why she knows how to work Jonathan, she just knows how. With a finger on her clit and his cock buried inside her she's not far from another orgasm herself.

He's never known this side of Nancy, but knowing what he knows about her, even her wild, forcefulness is in keeping with the Nancy he's been falling in love with for awhile. He fell in love with her paradoxes; soft, rough, shy, bold, smart, dumb Nancy was always on his mind, and astoundingly beautiful. She's fascinating. And hot as hell. He'll burn with her any day.

When he brings his hands to her thighs and lifts his hips to push into her they fall into a rhythm that keeps getting more intense, fueled by the looks in their eyes, running hot, hot, hot.

He sits up, gripping her hips, licking and sucking her nipples, rubbing her back, her ass, letting her lean back in his arms as she sways and grinds down against him. His eyes match her ferocity. The haunted, angry look in That Byers Boy’s eyes is back, but it’s a good type of sexy, dirty look. His eyes, his brows are pitch black in the dim lighting, haunting her in new ways. He’s never looked at anyone or anything like this before.

This storm will continue; it will never be out of their system.

 _‘We. What did We just do.’ 'I don't want anything to happen to you.' 'I waited.'_ Echoes in their memories of the past days. Hands wring into hair. Mouths meet, wet and panting. No more safety. No more watering it down. No more waiting. I got you.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was the longest and toughest one I've written yet, but also maybe my favorite. It was a beast. But fun and it had to get out of my head sooner or later. It's been almost 5 months in the making; it insisted on being written. 
> 
> I was trying to capture the denial and repetitive lies they must've told themselves. I know I took some liberties that may not look like canon. Oh well. I know this won't be everyone's vision of what happened, it's actually only one of many versions I've thought of. All of them included insane amounts of blushing though. These two...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it.


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